All is Fair in Love and War
by heroofmyownstory
Summary: Morgana Le Fey faces political and romantic intrigue as she prepares to become Camelot's next Queen by Arthur Pendragon's side. Merlin x Morgana x Arthur love triangle COMPLETE
1. The Proposal

_Chapter One_

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 **A** warm fire crackled in the hearth as Morgana and Arthur ate their dinner in silence.

Morgana sipped wine from her goblet absently, contemplating the day's events. A shiver ran down her spine as she heard the wind howl outside, recalling its extreme coldness from an outing earlier that day to the city. Suddenly, Morgana felt a wave of gratitude wash over her, not only for her respite from the harsh, winter cold, or the delicious feast she was currently having (what a waste for just two people!), but for her entire position in life.

She pondered sadly the fate of those less fortunate, and the inevitable plight of all her half-hearted attempts to help them, knowing the fate of her family depended on the maintenance of the country's feudal system. _It isn't that bad,_ she always told herself to assuage her guilt.

In any case, who _would_ have refused the gifts her life had to offer, were they in her place? Most commonly, those who begrudged her her place in life were the ones who would have traded with her without a second thought, which the Lady considered the height of hypocrisy.

Wouldn't it have been easier – and more honest – to admit that they were just jealous?

"Morgana."

Suddenly, Arthur broke the silence. His voice was laced with incertitude. Morgana gulped hard, bracing herself for whatever was to follow. Ever since Gaius's diagnosis of Uther's terminal illness, their conversations were often heavier than their silences. She concealed her worries behind a smile.

"What is it, Arthur?" she asked, her voice a gentle, soothing melody to the man sitting across her; he immediately burst into a smile. The way his eyes always glittered whenever he looked at her was disconcerting to say the least. The way she found herself wanting to indulge his desires was even more so.

"I… I'm not sure how to say this," Arthur began, averting his gaze and scratching the back of his head. For all his twenty-something years, the blond resembled, in that moment, more an unwieldly adolescent than the Crown Prince of Camelot. "I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" the brunette inquired innocently, wondering if Uther's condition had worsened (why hadn't Gaius informed her, then?), or if there were more bad news from the Northern Border (more than likely, seeing as Uther's illness and Arthur's young age and perceived naiveté had only emboldened the Saxon savages.)

"Morgana…" Arthur's blue eyes locked with her green, and suddenly a bad premonition washed over Morgana. She, however, dismissed the thought as mere paranoia and chided herself for her so-perceived hysterics.

"Yes?" she asked encouragingly. Her smile seemed to have emboldened Arthur, who burst into a wide smile and said, "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" he asked.

Morgana's eyes widened and lips parted in utter surprise. She chuckled nervously, barely audibly, hoping that Arthur might go on to reveal his proposal was a joke. When that didn't happen, Morgana was forced to realize that he was perfectly serious, and her moon-white face suddenly seemed ashen.

Arthur gulped hard, and began to sweat. "I – I know you're supposed to get down on one knee… but I thought, you and I have been friends for a long time –"

"I – I don't know, Arthur," she stammered nervously. "I mean –"

"I know – I know I haven't shown enough affection towards you recently – in fact, I might have even been neglecting you – but I was so consumed by my father's illness, I couldn't concentrate on anything else," he said.

Morgana opened her mouth to interrupt, but before she could articulate her tumultuous thoughts, Arthur quickly said, "You don't have to decide right away!" He even raised his hands as some sort of defensive gesture, Morgana presumed. "I know, I know it's a hard choice. Tying your life together with someone else's. I'm sorry. I'm sorry to spring this all on you now. But Camelot needs a ruler, and – and Uther's unfit to rule, you and I both know that."

Morgana noticed he refused to say that it was only a matter of time before his death. When it came to Uther, Arthur was always more emotional than pragmatic, unlike in all other aspects of his life. A contradiction in his nature, as doctors would say.

"The Saxon armies are advancing and we need to be ready when they get here. And I – I'm going to be King." He swallowed hard, as though finding it difficult to digest this turn of events. It certainly came before anyone would have anticipated, before Uther had planned. "And I need a Queen. I don't know who I can trust in Court. I only trust you. You're intelligent, you're _extremely_ knowledgeable, and you –"

"Yes."

Her reply stunned them both. She had blurted it without thinking. Then she smiled, feeling in her heart of hearts it was the right decision.

"Yes!" she repeated, her eyes filling with joy. An adolescent fantasy, thought to have been forgotten, was now fulfilled, years after its conception and after months of yearning. But she was happy like a woman who could help a friend, happy like a citizen who could be of service to her country, and not as a little girl happy that her crush turned out to be requited. Her heart swelled with in acknowledgment of her own character growth.

Arthur's expression of surprise promptly morphed into one of disbelief and joy. It took a few more seconds for her decision to truly register, then, when he seemed to finally fully get it, he laughed with relief. She laughed with him. Two great friends, united in the ruling of a country. They would both do it for Uther, the one who gave Arthur life and the one who gave Morgana a new one when her old one was destroyed by the same Saxon invaders plotting to overthrow the Pendragon dynasty now.

Amidst all the euphoria that ensued after her acceptance of his proposal did it dawn on her that there was someone – possibly the only one in the Kingdom –, someone very dear to her heart, who might object to their union.

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"He asked me to marry him." She said. He blinked, swallowing hard. He braced himself for what was to follow. And then she dealt the final blow. "I told him yes."

Merlin's face contorted like a man's who had known this would happen all along. As a man who thought he had been an obstacle to an inevitable union, one planned by the Fates and halted by himself, a mere mortal, a chess piece on somebody else's board. But his power and influence had only lasted for so long, before the Fates took reign again.

"No!" he cried, reminding himself that despite mere mortal delusions, no such thing as Fate existed. "NO!" he repeated loudly, as he saw his entire empire crumble in front of his eyes. His empire had been on built on love and a hope of a future family – not on ambition on future riches, after which he had never lasted and still did not take even the slightest bit of interest in. His entire future hinged on the requisite of his feelings. Now that that was gone…

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Morgana said, her chest constricting with guilt. She suddenly felt sick to the stomach. "I really am…" She would have done anything to assuage his pain – and her guilt. She gently touched him in an attempt to soothe him, but he snapped her hand away roughly. Morgana took a step back, gasping.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said; he sounded like he was crying and his back quivered. "Just go. JUST GO!" he raised his voice, glancing back at her to emphasize his point. Morgana fled.

The image of his face, contorted with rage and bloodshot with tears, would haunt her for days to come.

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Days passed without contact.

Thoughts of Merlin crept into Morgana's mind at the most inopportune moments. Each time, she assuaged the guilt by reminding herself that the desires of one couple did not trump the interest of an entire nation.

Uther had taken her in when her own country was conquered by the Saxons, before her father was forced off the throne and her entire family decapitated; only she and her older sister had managed to escape the prison of a Castle that had once been their home, but the road from Cornwall to Camelot being so long and perilous, and their resources having been so few, her sister died from pneumonia before they could reach safe haven.

Morgana was the last living member of the once glorious Le Fay dynasty. What she was doing, she owed not only to Uther for all the kindness and grace he had shown on her, but to the memory of her own, martyred parents. If Merlin couldn't understand that, if he didn't even care to hear her out, so be it. Honor and justice were more important than his feelings.

Merlin, just like Morgana, could not stop thinking about Morgana's rejection. In hindsight, he understood her decision perfectly, even sympathized with her cause, even if he didn't personally like it.

He knew it was selfish to want her to give up her past and be his, fully and only his, and wouldn't have dreamt of forcing his will on her, but the news of her engagement to Arthur had come so out of the blue he had reacted with emotion, and not compassion. In hindsight, he felt guilty for scaring her; even days after the incident, he could still recall, painfully clearly, her face when he started yelling at her, looking even more scared than he had seen her be. Fear was an emotion he would never want to strike in the hearts of those whom he loved, but at the same time, he couldn't help but think his reaction was understandable too.

One minute, they are contemplating running away and planning their life together – the next, suddenly, she's betrothed to Arthur. Though, to be fair, there was a short interval between the two extremities: a period during which she started becoming increasingly distant with him, a period that began the day Uther's illness was diagnosed. Around that time, Arthur's attitude towards Morgana had also visibly changed, for one reason or another. Had his unrequited crush returned, come back to haunt him after a certain other woman was married off to a peasant like herself, no longer there to heal his aching heart and caress his gentle soul?

Merlin, not only because of his servant status, had always come second – or third, or fourth – behind Arthur. Arthur was smarter, more handsome, and, not to mention, infinitely rich and a royal. Though he always denied the obvious to himself, he was now faced with the ugly facts: he was irrevocably and irredeemably jealous of Arthur.

And now he had taken the only thing in his life he still lived for: Morgana.

And though he wished he could hate him, he really couldn't: Arthur was the most upstanding man he ever knew.

As a result, Merlin sat stewing in his own hatred, with nobody to direct it but himself.

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A week later, Merlin and Morgana's paths would again intertwine. It was a day before the annual melee, in which warriors from all over the country fought for glory. Arthur planned on participating. His father, temporarily better, planned on watching.

"Are you sure it is wise, Father?" Arthur had asked. They were in Gaius's study where the physician was feeding his father soup, like a mother a child. "Wouldn't it be bad strategy to have people see you in such a state and then spread the word? The Saxons have ears and eyes everywhere."

Uther swallowed the spoonful of chicken broth Gaius fed him before replying, "That is why," he said, the shadow of the man he once was temporarily returning, "must exercise constant vigilance at all times." His voice was booming and powerful. Merlin sat up straight in his seat instinctively. Uther was about to continue before he dissolved into a fit of coughs. Whatever had possessed him – a ghost of the past, perhaps? – was now gone, and so was any illusion of power and stamina. Uther looked so miserable for a second that even Merlin's heart constricted with compassion, despite all the wrong he had done him. "That is why," Uther tried to continue, "You cannot trust anybody. Only Morgana. Trust only Morgana."

"Yes, Father, I'm marrying her. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No, no," Uther said feebly, shaking his head frantically, looking half-crazed. It was like he was talking, but he wasn't really there. "Marry for love, my son. I married for politics and look how my life had turned out. My own son doesn't even like me." Then he burst out laughing and his eyes glazed over and he commanded, "Soup," like an overgrown child, and was fed another spoon of chicken broth. It was like he was possessed, but Gaius swore he found no indication for anything else but a mental illness.

"Take me to the melee, Arthur. I want to see my son fight, even if it's the last thing I do." He still didn't seem completely there, but he sounded more lucid. In the end, it was Morgana who helped Arthur make the decision: "Let him come, Arthur. It won't matter whether the Saxon spies see him and report back to the generals; they already know he's terminally ill, and that you're taking over. Concentrate on showing them that you're powerful by winning the melee."

So it was that Uther's last, dying wish was fulfilled and sat excitedly in the Royal Stand as Arthur sat in his room, contemplating the immense crowd that had gathered for the melee through his window, feeling the pressure to live up to his father and to present himself as a threat to the Saxons weigh down upon him. Thousands of years could pass, and the weight of his father's expectations would still press down upon him. He could win a thousand and one battles, and it would still be never enough to live up to his father's legacy. Even in the grave, he thought, Uther's iron strong grip on his psyche would torment him forever.

Suddenly, the door opened and Morgana stepped in. A look of wonderment spread across his face as he saw her, looking more beautiful than ever; her hair was up in a chignon, and her eyelids sparkled the same silver color as her dress. She smiled back, glowing at being found beautiful.

"I've come to wish you luck," she said. "I thought you would be in your armor by now." She said, her smile faltering.

"I – I should be," he said nervously, "I don't know where my idiot of a servant is." He then snapped irritably, the façade of confidence back on. Morgana tsk-ed under her breath in disapproval. She wondered how grown men – Crown Princes in particular – could be brilliant men and yet still struggle to dress themselves without the help of a servant. She found it both infinitely sad and amusing.

"I can put on your armor," she said suddenly. "I know how to. I used to help my younger brother all the time."

Arthur burst into a grin. "Yes, I think I'd actually prefer that, thank you."

Morgana grinned back, and proceeded to dress Arthur. The air in between them seemed to grow hot, and when their eyes met, they acknowledged they weren't imagining it. Suddenly, Merlin ran in, coming to a sudden, screeching halt after stepping over the threshold.

"I'm here, Sire, I came as fast as I could –" he jabbered, panting furiously, then stopped dead in the middle of his sentence when he saw the scene in front of him: Morgana on her knees, strapping his boots on. He could immediately discern that he had interrupted a most intimate moment. He suddenly wished he wouldn't have come.

"Didn't you know how important this day was for me, Merlin? Did you leave me waiting on purpose, so I could fail?" Arthur normally didn't reprimand him so harshly for his failings – almost coming to see him as a friend over the years –, and Merlin suddenly couldn't understand the situation.

"I – no, I didn't, Sire –" Merlin stammered nervously, seething on the inside. _I was busy preparing the umpteenth medicament for your father,_ he thought furiously. _So he doesn't pass out or fall asleep during the melee he's so intent on attending despite all common sense._ "I was helping Gaius with his –"

"Get out of here, Merlin!" Arthur snapped angrily. "Now that I'm King, you should show me a little more respect! Morgana will help me dress. You can watch the melee from the sidelines. Don't bother coming to the Royal Box. Send Rupert instead."

After Merlin left, and a few moments of terse silence passed, "You didn't need to be so harsh with him, you know."

"I did. It's what my father would have done."

Morgana thought it best not to comment that. She finished putting on his armor and smiled one last smile of encouragement. "There. You're ready to go."

Arthur returned the smile half-heartedly. He was anything but 'ready to go.'

Then his face suddenly underwent indescribable change, and he raised a large, tan hand to cup her cold, pale face. Morgana's eyes widened in shock. Ever since his proposal, their exchanges have been nothing but cordial.

He leaned in slowly, tentatively, searching her eyes for approval. He was ready to draw away when she suddenly kissed him on the mouth, all the love and desire she had once felt for him bursting out of the box it had lain dormant in, locked away, thought defeated, thought forgotten, but in the end, _victorious_ and _fulfilled._

Arthur, after getting over his initial shock of reciprocation after he had thought himself rejected, pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms around her waist as she dug into his hair, desperate as though for air or for water, as though trying to make up for all the years he had missed, wasting it on fighting and other women when he could have been with her. His heart ached for all the moments missed, and after they broke apart, he held her face in his hands, and looked her straight in the eye and said, "I never want to lose you again."

She searched his eyes for any signs of dishonesty, and when she concluded that she found none, she burst into a happy smile and said, "Neither do I."

And suddenly, all felt right in the world.

But outside of their little world stood Merlin, watching through the keyhole, slowly burning alive in his own personal hell.


	2. The Melee

_Chapter Two_

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 **M** erlin watched the melee from the sidelines, as he had been instructed. His rage at the injustice was quickly put out by the melancholy he felt about his predicament. He just watched, helpless, as his life crumbled to pieces, in stark contrast to the ascent into the country's highest ranks of those whom he had not so long ago considered his friends.

There was nothing he could do but drown himself in self-pity, regret and resentment as he watched Arthur and his team win match after match, and joust after joust; as the crowd cheered after his every victory and the Crown Prince basked in the adoration of his people; as Morgana sat in the Royal Box, talking and laughing and enjoying the match without a care in the world; neither of them thinking of him or giving a damn about his plight. Where was the justice in that?, he wanted to cry out in agony.

Consumed by thoughts of jealousy, hatred and rage, he found himself barely able to concentrate on the melee. Then the ear-splitting sounding of horns, signaling the end of the games, snapped him out of his depressed musings. The crowd cheered wildly as the commentator announced that the winner of the melee was none other than Arthur Pendragon. If witnessing his old friend's victories wasn't enough in itself, Merlin was now subjected to the Crown Prince flaunting the fruits of his personal life as well; Arthur signaled to one of the servants, who entered the battlefield – looking out of place in his patched-up rags amongst the noblemen in high armor – and put a small, white and blue wreath on Arthur's lance.

The spectators, as well as his team members, watched in confusion and anticipation as he rode over on his white steed to the Royal Box. The audience emitted a collective gasp as Morgana stood up, her silver grown sparkling in the sunlight, leaned over the banister of the Box, and took the wreath off the Arthur's lance. Merlin, even from a distance, could still see them smiling at each other, and felt a wave of nausea was over him. It was all too much to bear.

Everything was just so perfect: first his immense victory at the melee, then showing off his beautiful fiancée during the celebrations. It just felt so incredibly unfair, and yet, Merlin knew, a servant deserved no better than his sort, and, according to his superiors, should have instead given thanks that he even got a peek inside the coulisses of the Castle.

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The Great Hall was filled with people, bustled with energy, and resounded with the sound of music and general merriment.

Then suddenly, a beautiful woman entered; her hair was as dark as the night, her lips as red as blood, and her green eyes sparkled mysteriously as she stepped into the room, a long, burgundy gown flowing behind her as an elegant shadow.

Morgana.

The entire ballroom stopped to look at her. Her servants trailed behind her from a polite distance, admiring at the vision they helped create, like the rest of the ballroom.

Morgana tried her best to conceal the smug smile tugging at her lips.

She finally caught Arthur's eye; the Crown Prince was standing in a group of generals from all over the country; and for a moment, it seemed like he couldn't believe she was his. He regained his confidence only once she walked up to him, smiling at him with all the respect and adoration a man could ever hope for, and he offered his arm and she took it.

"I would like to present to you, gentlemen, the Lady Morgana, and my wife-to-be." The group of generals emitted a barely audible, collective gasp. "Our engagement will be announced tonight." The gentlemen considered Morgana appraisingly.

And so it was, that amongst great applause, later on that night, the official life of Morgana Le Fay and Arthur Pendragon began; the last remaining descendants of two of the greatest dynasties in the English-speaking world, joined together in the hope of uniting the people of Albion and bringing about a united kingdom.

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After the celebrations, Arthur and Morgana retired to the Crown Prince's chambers. It had been an exhausting night. It was more a night of politics than actual merriment, which Morgana supposed was how the rest of her life was going to be. _It's all going to be worth it for my parents,_ she told herself. In fact, Arthur and Morgana had barely drunk during the entire night; Morgana's purpose had been to retain her dignity, and Arthur's had been to get the generals drunk to extract information out of them while he remained stone cold sober. Judging by his conceited grin, the night seemed to have gone according to plan.

"Jesus Christ," Morgana sighed, throwing herself onto Arthur's bed. The guest rooms were filled with noblemen and women from all around the country, and speculation and rumors would quickly spread if word caught out that the future King and his fiancée weren't sharing the same bed. "Tonight was exhausting." She was hoping for some acknowledgment for her efforts to get into the noblewomen's good graces, but Arthur seemed to be barely paying her any mind as he generously poured both of them red wine into golden chalices.

"You were great tonight," Arthur said, missing a beat, bursting into a wide grin spreading across tonight. "Wife," he added. His eyes shone with admiration and pure boy. Morgana's chest suddenly felt warm and fuzzy. "But wait till you hear what I did," he said, excited like a little boy for praise. Morgana could tell Arthur had been itching to share this piece of news ever since they retired for the night from the ballroom.

"What did you do?" Morgana asked, unable to help but be filled with admiration at the sight of the future King, about to detail of his first exploit as such. She was sure, so sure, that he would do well. The only one who had ever had any doubts was Arthur, and Uther, maybe.

"I talked with the Dukes of Richmond, Beaufort and Devonshire," he said with a grin. "They really liked you, by the way. Thought you were _fine_ ," he said, the light in his blue eyes dancing playfully. Morgana snorted, but couldn't help but laugh.

"OK, ew, go on," she said, taking a sip of her wine. Arthur chuckled and did as such.

"So," Arthur said. "After several rounds of wine, the gentlemen got a little talkative. I had Merlin fill my goblets with cherry juice, which looked about the same so nobody noticed. The gentlemen, on the other hand, got the real deal," he said, preventing her question, his eyes sparkling with pride.

He seemed excited, nervous and proud at the same time – excited to tell his tale, of which he was proud, but nervous because in the past, the one he had expected praise from was the one who had given him only reprimand and scorn. As his new wife-to-be, and because Uther was no longer himself, that role seem to befall Morgana now.

"And while the Dukes of Richmond and Beaufort passed out, the Duke of Devonshire just kept asking for more and more wine… and you know, I'm the host, I had to indulge him,"

Morgana laughed, which seemed to further invigorate Arthur, who was basking in the glow of his success.

"And he and I got into really, really deep topics," Arthur went on. Morgana just wished he would reveal what he had found out already. She was getting tired of the foreplay. "And I found out…" Arthur said slowly for extra effect.

Morgana burst into giggles despite herself. "Come on! Just say it already!" Arthur laughed and said, "I found out he's the spy."

Morgana suddenly became serious. "What? He's spying for the Saxons?"

"Yes," Arthur said solemnly. "I think he is."

Morgana sat up properly. "How do you know?"

"First of all, his domain is closest to the Northern border. Second of all, he let something slip about having General Abraxas over for dinner the other night, and how he's a worse drinker than the Irish." He explained.

Morgana gulped hard, swallowing this information. "For all you know, the other two Dukes are working against you as well. And anyone else in that ballroom could be." Her eyes gleamed with concern.

"I know," Arthur said quietly. "That's why I'm glad I've got you. You're the only one I can trust."

A terse pause followed. They felt the weight of their future pressing down on their shoulders, a weight that even each other's company barely assuaged.

"What are you planning to do about the Duke of Devonshire, though?" Morgana suddenly asked. "Will you just… continue to let him be a spy? What's going to happen?"

"I have no idea… I'd ask Father, but –" Arthur seemed more lost than ever.

"Yeah," Morgana said, compassionate. "I know."

Another pregnant pause. Arthur didn't seem like he wanted to worry about the troubles of tomorrow, but instead savor the victory of today. Morgana wanted to warn him against it, but before she could, he disarmed her with flattery. "You looked the most beautiful tonight out of all the women." He said. He clasped her small, cold hands in his big, warm ones. A shiver ran down her spine. He leaned in closer, and his proximity suddenly made her forget whatever she wanted to discuss with him prior. "I'm so glad you're going to be my wife."

Morgana, dizzy with an intoxicating mixture of lust and disbelief, suddenly didn't know how to act. Everything that was currently happening was a manifestation of an old, old fantasy of hers, a dream long ago buried in the cobwebbed corners of her mind that she never visited, along with all the other hopes and dreams that she had given up all hope of realizing. As he leaned in to kiss her and then, to make her his, all warmth and tenderness, she realized it would have been a shame, such a shame, to let that old dream die.

Just as he was about to kiss her, a hand on her waist and another one cupping her cheeks, and her breathing in heavily, intoxicated by his touch more than she could ever be by the taste of her favorite red wine, the door suddenly burst open, and one of Arthur's servants ran in, looking disheveled, red in the face, and panting heavily.

Irritation washed over both Arthur and Morgana, except Arthur had no qualms about voicing his feelings on the matter.

"Merlin, since when do you have permission to enter my chambers as you please?" he snapped irritably. Morgana shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but she looked the servant straight in the eye. If Merlin had any feelings towards finding her in bed with him, he hid them well.

"I'm sorry, Sire," Merlin then said, looking quickly away from Morgana. His face was perfectly controlled but his voice broke to betray his irritation with authority. "Gaius sent me. He says the Duke of Devonshire has been poisoned."


	3. The Poisoning

_Chapter Three_

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 **T** he air dropped several degrees after Merlin's declaration. Neither Morgana nor Arthur moved for a split second or two, immobilized by the shock. The glorious feeling of triumph quickly evaporated to be replaced by the chilling, throttling grip of fear.

Morgana was the first to recompose herself, but turned to Arthur for direction. She wasn't going to 'stifle' him as she had so often done when they were children.

Reinvigorated by both his servant and fiancée looking to him for guidance, Arthur finally said, "Let's go then," he stood up. "Morgana, you're coming with me. We don't know who did this, or what else they may be planning to do, so it's best you remain within my sights. Merlin, you don't let her out of your sight, either." Merlin nodded dutifully. Morgana and Merlin exchanged glances surreptitiously: they both knew this arrangement spelled only trouble for the both of them. Before Arthur could notice, they quickly averted their gazes.

Arthur took Morgana by the hand, and led her out of their chambers, with Merlin quickly locking it behind them, and then hurrying to catch up with them. It was truly horrible, how Arthur treated his servants, Morgana thought. At the same time, it was just how noblemen of the era typically related to their servants. She briefly wondered if it would be fair to expect more of her future husband.

Arthur let go of her hand as they neared Gaius's chambers. He shoved the door open, and stepped inside, his expression an open book for anyone who knew how to read. Morgana, in step with Merlin, entered the room after him. The room's attention shifted to the future king, who immediately demanded to know what had happened.

"The guards brought him in," Gaius explained as he led Arthur to the bed the Duke of Devonshire laid on. The forty-year old man was a sorry sight, red in the face, the veins protruding with the effort it took to breathe, barely alive. "They heard voices from inside and broke in. By the time they did, whoever committed this crime was gone." Arthur scowled, trying and ultimately failing to make sense of things.

Morgana, in the meantime, until the watchful eye of the loyal servant Merlin, retreated into the corner where the Duke's young wife sat, sobbing softly, and put an arm around her to console her. The young blonde buried her face into Morgana's chest and continued sobbing miserably. Morgana's heart churned with compassion until the girl, namely Lilian, spoke up, "Who will dance with me now at royal functions?" Fighting the urge to push her away in disgust, Morgana told herself it was only fair that a man who married not for love, but for youth and looks and the status such a bride granted him, had to spend his life with someone who had married him for equally superficial reasons: money and title. Matches like theirs were made almost daily in the kingdom, and while it saddened her greatly, not everyone could be saved from themselves.

But from that point on, she concentrated less on consoling the bride than on the conversation between the guards, Gaius, and Arthur.

"Who else knows about this?" Arthur asked after the physician briefed him about the Duke's status.

"No one yet," the guards said.

"So you have no idea what's wrong with him?" Arthur asked, turning back to Gaius.

"No, Sire. I'm afraid someone cast a hex upon him. And I have no cure for magic."

"Surely you can come up with something," Arthur said. "Given your past."

The guards, who were unfamiliar with Gaius's 'sordid' history as a sorcerer, exchanged surprised glances. Thinking that it might have been wrong to say this out loud, Arthur immediately dismissed the two men, instructing them to guard them on the other side of the door.

Arthur's attention suddenly shifted to Lilian. "So you saw nothing, Lilian? You just came back from the bathroom and he was like that?"

Lilian attempted to compose herself, wiping the sides of her eyes and sniffling furiously. Merlin fished a handkerchief out of his pockets and handed it to her. The rest of the room waited, agitated, as she blew her nose before replying, "Yes. He was suffocating, but I heard nothing. I only came out when the guards made a ruckus when they entered," she said, rolling her eyes irritably at the memory, as though reproaching the guards for some perceived insolence. "I really heard nothing." She repeated, trying to convince the others, who stared at her in silence, cogs in their minds whirring at a thousand miles per hour. "I know what you're thinking," Lilian said, and suddenly she sounded more lucid than she had all night. Grown-up, even. "But I have no motive. If he dies, I lose everything. We sighed a prenuptial agreement. I'm owed nothing. I was stupid enough to become a trophy wife, but I'm not _that_ stupid."

Another uncomfortable silence fell on the room, although this time, for different reasons.

"I'll walk you up to your room," Morgana offered. "Is that alright, Arthur? Do you think that's a good idea?"

Arthur seemed taken aback by her question. In their past, she would never have asked his permission for anything, often going as far as to ridicule and belittle his opinions and concerns whenever he voiced them. "Y-yeah, yeah, sure, do that," Arthur said lastly, still reeling. "Merlin, you go with her and have one of the guards escort you as well. I think the danger has passed, and whoever had poisoned the Duke had accomplished what he had intended, but it is better to be precautious. Morgana, Merlin – come back afterwards."

From his eyes, Morgana could easily read that he needed them. Nodding in understanding, she beckoned to Merlin to follow her and led a distraught Lilian by the arm out of the room. As the door shut behind them, Arthur turned back to Gaius.

"What do we do? We can't let him die. Have you tried waking my father? He would know what to do."

Gaius pursed his lips uncomfortably. "I'm afraid not, Sire," he said. "The king has… not been himself recently." The physician was choosing his words carefully, doing his best not to overstep any boundaries. Arthur, however, seemed more interested in his thoughts on the matter than his wording thereof. Still, Gaius remained careful. "I'm afraid it is time for a new king."

Arthur swallowed hard. "Me," he said, his voice was strained.

Gaius nodded. "Yes, you, Sire." He said softly. A new ruler meant new hope. While Gaius had always considered Uther a friend, despite – or perhaps precisely because of this –, he was also acutely aware of his shortcomings as well. Camelot needed a new ruler.

"I tried to wake him up, you see," Gaius said, referring to the current King. The old man then turned away to change the aqueous poultices on the painfully, hoarsely breathing Duke. "I asked him a few questions, and he began talking about something else, and then he fell right back asleep. I tried to wake him again, but the second time around, I was unsuccessful." He measured the Duke's temperature, and pursed his lips anxiously. Then he turned back to Arthur, and his eyes were full of hope as well as sadness. "I'm afraid the era of Uther Pendragon is finished."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked. "You said this man here was afflicted with magic. How can you be so sure my father isn't?" He sounded desperately angry despite his best efforts to the contrary. Gaius thought he sounded like someone suspecting foul play. Suppressing a sigh, Gaius explained:

"Because, Prince Arthur, not every ill in this world is caused by magic, and not everything can be fixed through it. I'm afraid your father is suffering from a severe case of dementia, and there is nothing we can do to reverse the condition once it's begun its deadly course. All we can do is pray that it doesn't get worse."

Arthur swallowed hard, nodding. The sincerity in Gaius's eyes finally convinced him. "OK. I'm ready." He said. The fire of determination dissolved the fog of white hot fear that had previously clouded his vision, and in it, now, Gaius could see the outline of a man who would one day be ready to rule Camelot. The physician burst into a smile.

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In the meantime, Morgana and Merlin led Lilian to her chambers. The girl cried all the way to the West Wing and begged them to stay after they had reached their destination, but Morgana reassured her that the guards stationed in front of her door would protect her, even promised to spend the following day with her to calm her down. However, even that was not enough to assuage the young woman, who only quietened finally when Morgana promised to send in a servant to keep her company for the night.

Exasperated, Morgana and Merlin began their way back to Gaius's chambers. Their footsteps resounded eerily in the torch-lit corridors of the Castle, distracting from the ear-splitting silence between the two of them. It was Morgana who finally broke it.

"Look, Merlin." She began; her voice was cool and controlled, but her eyes, glistening with tears, betrayed her. "I'm truly sorry. For everything. For hurting you." Merlin swallowed hard, looking away. "I wish I could take it all back. I wish there was another way to do this, one that didn't include hurting you –"

"I really wish," Merlin cut in, "there was something I could say."

It felt like a punch in the gut, but Morgana presumed she deserved it. "You can hate me all you want," she sounded defensive now. "But I know this was the right choice."

Merlin exhaled heavily, but said nothing. It was obvious, however, that remaining composed took superhuman effort.

"I'm sorry," Morgana repeated. "I didn't mean to cause you any harm. But Arthur needs my help. _Camelot_ needs my help. I –"

"I understand," Merlin said, a hint of impatience lacing his voice. "I understand." It seemed like every word uttered caused him great pain. "I understand you need to do it for your parents. Because of the Saxons. Because of Uther. I just don't understand why you need to be his wife for it."

"I guess," she said. "It's easier that way."

"He likes you, Morgana," Merlin said. "Always had, always will. When you were younger, he was just too proud to show it."

Morgana's face lit up despite her best efforts. "Really?" she asked excitedly. "I mean – really?" she asked again, trying to seem more surprised than excited.

Merlin sighed. "I guess it was my fault for standing in the way,"

"No, no," Morgana insisted. "If he hadn't proposed, I would have ran away with you. You have to know that. You _do_ know that, don't you?"

Merlin shrugged. "I guess," he seemed the farthest from convinced, however.

"Come on," Morgana said. "Come _on._ "

"Can I… request something from you, Morgana?" Merlin then asked seriously.

"Anything," she said readily.

"Do not talk to me again," Merlin said.

His request shocked her to the core. She had expected anything but this.

"I don't want my moving on," he explained. "To be hindered by our constant communication. It would be best," he said, "to limit our interactions as much as possible."

Morgana felt like agreeing to such a request would compromise her status as a princess of Camelot, but because she saw Merlin as a human being first and foremost, she swallowed her pride and obliged. She hated herself for it, but also supposed that perhaps in a way she owed this to him for scorning him unfairly. How would she have felt in his place?

In any case, it gave her the perfect excuse to stay away from him. The last thing she wanted to see was the sad puppy face everywhere she looked, knowing that she was responsible for the state he was in.

Following up on her promise, she decidedly walked in front of him, ignoring him like she had done before they had gotten close. _It would be like we've never met,_ she thought furiously, her blue cloak billowing behind her.

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Morgana and Merlin re-entered Gaius's chambers.

"So," Morgana asked, to interrupt the chilly silence in the room, "Have you reached any consensus on the issue yet?" she beckoned towards the Duke of Devonshire.

Arthur burst into a smile and drew her into a hug. Gaius noticed how Merlin swallowed hard, face contorted by badly concealed jealousy. Nobody else paid any mind to the servant in the room, however.

"Yes, we have, actually." Arthur said, just a tiny bit smug.

He held Morgana's face in his hands, smiling at her with all the love in the world. The love he had held in all this time, in fear of rejection and hurt, the love that was now safe to show. Morgana returned his gaze. Merlin noticed Gaius staring intently at him, scrutinizing him, willing him to return his gaze, to communicate somehow, but, ashamed of his own feelings, the young warlock decidedly looked elsewhere. Even witnessing the woman he was in love with be in love with someone else was less painful than seeing Gaius's opinion all over his face. He knew, anyway, that he would not escape a lecture after the two royals have returned to their chambers.

"Gaius and I have decided," he said. "that it's time for me to take my father's place on the throne."

Morgana's lips parted in surprise.

Merlin's heart skipped a beat.

Gaius smiled, proud of the boy he had known since the latter was an infant; the once unberable, spoilt child who had grown into the kind of king Camelot needed right in front of his eyes.

Then finally Morgana spoke. Spluttering in disbelief, her eyes shining with joy and pride, knowing this had been Arthur's dream since his childhood, she said, "Oh, my God. That is so great." She lifted a hand to caress his cheeks and then he enveloped her hand in his, kissing it, the sign of utmost respect and adoration. Merlin's nausea doubled instantly.

"The coronation ceremony will take place within the week," Arthur continued. "Our marriage and your coronation ceremony will take place simultaneously. I hope that's OK with you," he said, sounding honestly concerned, "But I don't know what's happening, what with the Duke's poisoning and all – and it may be nothing aimed at us, but the new order has to be established as fast as possible, because I fear tonight was a sign of our enemies taking advantage of what they perceive to be our weakness, and –"

Morgana shushed him affectionately. "You don't have to explain," she said. "I understand."

Arthur squeezed her hand in response, seemingly unable to believe how lucky he was to have such a supportive spouse. He said, "I love you," and, forgetting about himself, the situation they were in and everything and everyone else, kissed her on the mouth.

It was a phrase she had never heard from him, and it had taken years to build up within him and to finally come out, long after it was due, but the words slipped out of his mouth as if his lips had been thirsting to say them for ages, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His affections for the Lady Morgana, he realized, had always been there, dormant, rejected, denied, banished to the unvisited corners of his mind, because of what now seemed like childish fears of rejection. After years of wasting time, he finally felt like he was on the right track, for possibly the first time in his life.

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A/N: If you're reading this, I would like to ask you to please leave a review. I'm mostly writing this for feedback, as I want to progress as a writer. I'd be most obliged if you did. Thank you!


	4. The Talk

_Chapter Four_

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Gaius cleared his throat, and the two love birds broke apart embarrassedly. Then Arthur excused themselves, and holding hands and giggling like two teenagers in love, they ascended to the North Wing.

Silence descended upon the room after the door banged shut behind the future rulers of Camelot. Merlin no longer had any choice but to face Gaius. He now looked the physician straight in the eye, daring him to reprimand him, knowing deep down inside that whatever the old man would tell him, he would be right.

"So," Merlin prompted when Gaius remained silent. "Aren't you going to say anything? Give me a lecture on the wrongness of loving someone above your station? How I should have seen this coming all along –"

"No, Merlin," Gaius interrupted wearily, with a note of impatience in his voice. "I'm not going to give you a lecture." Tired after a long day, Gaius sat down at their minuscule wooden dining table and began peeling apples. "Do you want some?" he asked.

Merlin declined because he didn't particularly fancy the fruit, but sat down in front of Gaius all the same. Gaius then sliced the apples and began eating them. "Are you sure you don't want some?"

Suddenly, Merlin realized how hungry he felt. It was a long day, and he needed the energy.

"Thank you," Merlin said with a smile, taking a slice. Gaius proceeded to peel and slice more apples.

"I'm not going to give you a lecture, Merlin, because I've been in love too," Gaius said, looking him straight in the eye. "With someone above my station."

Merlin found it difficult to imagine Gaius as a robust young man with the ability to make a lady of high station swoon. The mental exercise, though unsuccessful, made him see Gaius as more of a human being as opposed to a superhumanly wise, calm and experienced old mentor. The only father figure he had ever had.

"You?" Merlin asked, laughing. "Who was it, Gaius? Tell me!"

Gaius seemed to consider the request, then sighed heavily. "I suppose I might as well. It doesn't matter now. She's dead anyway," he said sadly, a faraway look on his face. He stared out the window absently, not really seeing what was there, lost in the recesses of his own mind. "Her name was Catherine, and we met on the road, as I was travelling through Cornwall, intent on exploring the entire Kingdom." He began, turning back to Merlin with a boyish tingle in his eyes, unwittingly giving Merlin a glimpse into the young man he had once been. Gaius suddenly looked at least ten years younger than his age.

"Cornwall?" Merlin asked. "Isn't that where –?"

"It was a different time, you see," Gaius said. "Magic wasn't frowned upon and the Le Fay dynasty ruled over the Eastern Kingdom." His eyes glazed over with nostalgia. He seemed barely present as he went on, a serene smile on his face. "She was travelling through the Kingdom too, looking for a little adventure. She was the only descendant of an impoverished noble family, and her family put pressure upon her to marry for money and status. Knowing that otherwise their family would perish, she chose to give into her parents' demands. At the same time, the man in question was so atrocious she wanted to limit the time spent with him to a minimum. In me, she found respite.

The few weeks we spent together was more magical than anything in these books," he said, pointing to the library of grimoires he disguised as regular books in his chambers. "But alas, eventually, it came to an end. She had to return to prepare for her marriage and her new life. We never met again, but I never forgot about her.

But that's all it was, Merlin. An adventure. And I know that by continuing, we would have only made a mistake."

That caught Merlin's attention. He instinctively, unwittingly straightened up in his seat.

"She had a life and I had a life, and they overlapped in no way. Sooner or later, it would have become a problem. Her world never would have accepted me, and while she toyed with the idea of leaving it all behind to start a life with me, so afraid she was of her impending marriage, I know she would have eventually regretted it. Not only for leaving her family behind to fend for themselves, but because a peasant's life is not something a royal woman can imagine until she's experienced it. They have a romanticized idea of peasantry, and you and I both know how far removed from reality their vision of poverty is. One day, I knew, she would realize she didn't love me anymore and none of it would make sense anymore. The uncomfortable mattress, the bad food, the tasteless wines – why endure it when she didn't love me anymore? Love is a beautiful thing and it makes us take risks and move out of our comfort zone. Sadly, love only lasts so long."

A wave of anger washing over him, Merlin abruptly stood up from the table and went over to the bed on which the Duke of Devonshire lay, miffed. "Didn't you say Arthur asked us to do everything to keep him alive?" he said. Gaius nodded in response, struggling to get to his feet and then hobbling over to stand beside Merlin, who felt a twinge of guilt for his previous treatment of him, even if it wasn't so overtly malicious. "So, let's get to that." He said, his tone much softer this time.

Gaius sighed. As they began working together in utter silence. In the absence of words and thoughts, serenity descended upon him, concentrated on nothing else but his job at hand.

But serenity only lasted for so long.

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Up in the North Wing, the mood was much more uplifted.

"No more talk about what happened tonight," Arthur said, gently pressing a finger onto Morgana's soft lips when she attempted to discuss the night's events after exiting the physician's chambers. "Merlin and Gaius will take care of it. Let us enjoy our last moments before everybody finds out and hell descends upon us."

The last thing the future king did in relation to the Duke's poisoning was double the guard around everyone's chambers.

After that, there was no more talk about the incident.

Once in their chambers, Arthur re-opened the bottle of red wine. He filled their goblets with fresh wine and they drank to good luck. Arthur didn't take a long time to get to business. After finishing his first goblet of wine, he sat down beside her on the bed, and placed a warm hand upon her thighs, making shivers run down her spine. But he noticed her sudden reluctance and slowed down. "What's wrong?" he asked concernedly, eyebrows furrowed.

Morgana sighed deeply. She had, of course, been looking forward to this, but was suddenly having second thoughts. The most absurd of fears grappled her heart.

"I… I have been with other men before," she finally burst out.

Arthur looked at her, surprised and shocked, wondering if this was truly what was bothering her. Then he burst out laughing.

"Is this that what you're worried about? Really, Morgana?" he asked, wiping the sides of his eyes, doubling over with mirth.

"Yes," Morgana said, scoffing, eyes narrowed.

"Well – I mean," Arthur said. "Do you think I didn't know? Didn't notice? Do you honestly think that I am blind to what goes on around the Castle?" Morgana was suddenly reminded of all the times she had called him a self-obsessed twat who couldn't see farther than his nose in the past with the tiniest twinge of guilt. Arthur went on. "Why would that bother me, Morgana?" He seemed to find it as puzzling as it was entertaining.

"I mean – doesn't it?" Morgana stammered awkwardly.

"I was perfectly aware what I was getting into when I proposed to you," Arthur said with a wide grin, eyes dancing with delight. "It doesn't change the way I feel about you. Besides, I have been with other women before, so who am I to judge?" he asked. "Is that all that was bothering you?"

Morgana nodded feebly.

Arthur's eyes danced with mirth and his sigh betrayed his relief. He had thought much deeper, more sinister reasons were at play, one that would shake the foundation of their marriage before it had even begun. "If I ever judge you to be worth less than I am for the same things I have done, kill me, will you?" he said.

Gratitude washed over her in acknowledgment of the fair and just man Arthur was. She felt lucky to have a man like Arthur by her side for the rest of eternity.

But in truth, she had been merely dancing around her real problem. "Don't you want to know who they were?" It had taken her this long to muster the courage to give the reply she thought he would undoubtedly ask for.

"No," Arthur said, scowling, shaking his head in incomprehension. "Do you? Well, there was the maid –"

"Oh my God!" Morgana cried with a note of shrillness in her voice. "No, of course not. But me –"

"I don't want to know who your ex-lovers were either, Morgana."

Morgana bit her lower lip anxiously, struggling inside.

"Is there anything else, Morgana?" There was a look of hurt in his eyes. Morgana decided tonight was not the night to tell him of her history, if any such night would ever indeed come. She decided it was best not to ruin their night with talk of ex-lovers, no matter who they were, or how close they were to their current ones, as per his request.

"No," she said at last, smiling. She wished she could take back the question that had started this avalanche of awkwardness. But she supposed in life nothing was perfect. Not even first nights together with the one you loved.

"In that case," he said, climbing on top of her. Morgana's heart skipped a beat in anticipation. "Shut up, and let me make this the best night of your life."

And in a long line of promises to come he would keep, this was the first one he lived up to.

And she was wrong. First nights with the one you loved could indeed be heaven on earth.

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A/N: Thank you so much for leaving reviews for the previous chapter. It always makes an author more motivated if she knows people are reading and enjoying it. It would mean the world to me if you could let me know what you thought about this chapter as well. Thank you so much in advance.


	5. The Confession

**Author's** **Note:** I re-uploaded this chapter because I rewrote most of it.

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 _Chapter Five_

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 **I** t was a dreary December night; the wind howled, the rain fell in downpours, the darkness enshrouded the night kingdom in utter mystery, and the unknown striked fear in the hearts of those menaced by it.

Morgana sat by the windows in Arthur's chambers, a shawl wrapped around herself, listening to the harsh platter of rain against the window panes. While Arthur had quickly fallen asleep after making love, Morgana tossed and turned beside him for hours, attempting to decipher the day's events, unable to rest when danger seemed so imminent to the Kingdom she so loved, until she finally gave up sleep altogether and moved to sit Arthur's desk.

As she sat, barely awake and yet somehow not nearly tried, she wondered what – and whose – forces could be at work outside the castle walls. She somehow doubted it was the Saxons – it was just a premonition, one she couldn't comprehend, but just like her dreams, over the years she had learned not to question them.

The longer she stared out into the courtyard, the more uneasy the darkness outside made her – anything could be hidden out there. But worst of all, if tonight's attack was any indication, they were no longer safe within the castle walls either.

Snapping her out of her reverie, the large wooden doors of Arthur's chambers creaked open, and her heart skipped a beat, wondering if she and her fiancé were about to become the next victims of the Duke's assailant.

The light coming in from the corridors cast a shadow over the intruder, creating of his figure something barely more decipherable than a silhouette.

Thunder rumbled outside again, making shivers run down Morgana's spine and lighting up the intruder's form.

She felt an immense weight lift from her shoulders when she realized who it was.

 _Merlin._

But relief quickly transformed back into panic, mingled with irritation, as the doors closed behind him, blocking the light of the torches from outside, and leaving them alone in the semi-darkness. Before she could question him, the servant quickly explained the reason for his presence,

"I'm sorry to bother you at such an ungodly hour of the morning, milady," he said, giving the customary bow. Morgana resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing they were no longer lovers, but a future queen and a man who would forever be nothing more than a servant. "Gaius and I have managed to heal the Duke of Devonshire, of which King Uther was promptly informed of in a lucid streak. He instructs Prince Arthur to tell the rest of the guests that he suffered from alcohol poisoning, and to disperse the doubled guard before anyone catches whiff of trouble."

Morgana nodded, glancing briefly at her fiancé, presently snoring without a care in the world in his four-poster bed. Fighting down a wave of irritation, unable to comprehend how anybody could be sound asleep in times of crisis (especially the future king!), she said, "I'll wake him." When Merlin didn't budge, Morgana said, "Thank you for bearing the King's message. You may be dismissed now," with a smile to soften the blow of her words.

But Merlin continued to stand there, staring at Morgana intently (much to the latter's steadily mounting irritation), lips quivering with the urge to speak. Morgana was about to snap at him – the effects of sleep deprivation amongst others – when he finally spoke up, "The King also told me to forward his congratulations for your upcoming marriage with Arthur. He says you made the right choice, and thanks you for considering his request."

All the warmth suddenly left Morgana's body. It took a few moments for her to recompose herself, and when she did, despite her best efforts, she felt she was on the verge of tears.

"Oh, my God," she said, crestfallen. Her eyes glistened with tears, seeing her esteem fall in Merlin's eyes heavily. "It's not what you think," she said softly, begging to be understood without revealing too much, hating that what Merlin seemed to be reading the worst into Uther's cryptic words. She took a step towards him instinctively – wanting to touch him, to hold him, and most of all, to _explain_ –, but he recoiled in what seemed to be revulsion. His face became contrite when he saw the hurt he inflicted upon his past lover of just a few days, but Morgana was quick to recompose herself, and this time, she let anger take reign. The next words, the servant could tell, were addressed to the King just as much as to him. Her voice cut like a knife in the semidarkness that enveloped them. As she spoke, her nails dug into her palms at the ludicrous accusation, the demeaning insinuation.

"You can tell the King that I'm marrying his son because I love him, not because of anything he said to me or for personal gain. If he thinks any differently, then he overestimates his influence, and underestimates his son's appeal and rudely calls into question my decision-making skills."

Then, with a heavy breath, the anger left her body and she stretched her fingers. She felt tiny droplets of blood emanate from the wounds she had unwittingly made with her sharp nails, and the cold air in the room stung her freshly made wounds. Suddenly more rational, she spoke again and Merlin understood these words to be the finalized, considerably more diplomatic version of her message to the King, "I did what I did because I wanted to, not for him. He doesn't need to thank me, and I reject his gratitude."

Merlin swallowed hard, attempting to make sense of the newly acquired information.

Seething inside, she walked over to the cabinet, uncorking a fresh bottle of wine and pouring herself a drink into the nearest goblet she could get her hands on. Then she seemed to remember Merlin's presence and turned to him, "That's all. Thank you." She even smiled.

Merlin nodded, frustrated and confused, and bid the customary, eternally polite goodbye due to future queens, and dismissed himself, his mind still reeling.

As the door banged shut behind the servant, Morgana released the sigh she didn't realize she had been holding in. She never thought she'd suffer so hard to see her previous lover's face contort with disgust at something he thought she'd done. Anger and melancholy fought simultaneously to take control, all agents of the devil, the bringer of chaos and despair in the world of humans. While sadness and tears purified one, she could not be to be the damsel in distress anymore. Purity, she thought, came hand-in-hand and only hand-in-hand with the sort of vulnerability she could no longer afford. As the future queen, she chose anger because it had the ability to give her strength more than anything else, and there was nothing that set queens apart from mere mortals more than immense strength of character and will-power.

Assuming her responsibilities as the future king's fiancée, she walked over to Arthur's side of the bed to wake him, stifling all the feelings she could neither afford nor really face. She gently shook him back to consciousness, back into a world where he was no longer carefree but tasked with the management of a kingdom on the verge of war, a world in which she would always be there for him, aiding him where she could, where she was needed.

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Fortunately, the first crisis of the last days of Uther's reign and the first of that of his son Arthur, was quickly averted. Under questioning, the Duke and his wife Lilian quickly admitted to their treachery and confessed to consorting with the Saxons. The first betrayal of his reign took great toll on Arthur, but even as such, he struggled with the concept of executing them, which was the established procedure in such cases. In any case, however, the betrayal had one enormously positive outcome: Lilian and George Cunningham of Devonshire revealed the plans the Saxons had formulated to enter Camelot through their domain, the plans which they have, they shamefully confessed, agreed to. However, as they brought up in their own defense, they were having second-thoughts about the arrangement, which they said the Saxons must have gotten wind of – they suspected their own personnel to have betrayed them, for they often forgot about their presence when they talked.

In regards to his poisoning, the Duke revealed that it was his wife, in a state of possession, who had administered the deadly liquid. Lilian had no recollection of the memory and shrilly denied all such accusations until an empty vial was found in her cabinet. Shattered, Lilian had to sit down and rethink the day's events to come up with an explanation for the inexplicable. Gaius then noticed her pearl necklace, which, upon touch, gave him a slight electric shock. George and Lilian insisted she bought it at a fair in a quaint little town they were forced to make a stop in to let their horses rest and to grab something to eat. In retrospect, they considered her to be a witch in disguise. When asked how the Saxons could have known in advance where they would make a pit stop, Lilian simply said,

"They're everywhere, Sire, believe me," she pleaded to Arthur, whose lips curled downwards with distaste, "They use sorcerers. They're more powerful than you think. And they're intent on taking over this kingdom. They think it is theirs."

George, beside her, nodded frantically in agreement. "They could be anywhere, Sire. Even within your own kingdom."

Morgana cast a fleeting glance at Merlin that Arthur noticed but dismissed as he had no time to deal with at that moment.

And so it was that the Cunninghams were thrown into jail as opposed to executed. "I still don't believe you," Arthur told them after the guards locked the doors of their prison cells, though he did. "I hope this place will help you… remember things." This procedure was an extra precaution.

And while it wasn't clear whether Arthur's way of dealing with the issue at hand would benefit the kingdom or make matters worse, the mystery seemed to be solved for now.

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Sunlight broke by the time Arthur and Morgana were back in the former's chambers, discussing the day's events. They were irrevocably tired, yet at six in the morning, it seemed useless to fall back asleep for what little remained of the night. They sat in their chambers idly, giggling over their triumph, for it seemed little in comparison to Uther's legacy, it was still their first communal victory. They clinked their goblets together for good measure, though they were filled with soda this time. They agreed to meet in two hours' time to have breakfast together. Arthur suddenly couldn't remember whether at the mention of sorcery Morgana had really looked at Merlin, or whether it was a delirious memory conjured by his suddenly paranoid mind. He dismissed it as the latter, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss between the two despite his best efforts. Then he closed his eyes and forgot all about it.

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Sundown, Morgana thought, couldn't have come sooner.

The next few days were spent with planning their marriage and coronation ceremony, which were usually separate events. Morgana could never have previously imagined how much work went into the organization of such a ceremony, and her exhaustion by the end of the day rivaled that of the exhaustion of two mornings' prior. She retired to her chambers satisfied, however, because thanks to the work of all the competent personnel and her own, they could finally set a date: January 30th. The invitations would be mailed that very night.

There was only one remaining threat to their marriage, which she planned to eliminate that very night.

At sundown, while her fiancé was in a meeting with the noblemen of Camelot (how she hated to be excluded!), Morgana ventured to the far end of the castle. After reaching her destination, she took a deep breath and finally knocked on Gaius's door.

Much to her dismay, it was Gaius who opened the door. She had expected as much, but had still hoped against it because it meant involving another person in her private affairs. However, involving him seemed to be the only way to accomplish what she wanted, and she wasn't going to relinquish her plans because of a single obstacle.

She asked Gaius to fetch Merlin with an excuse that she made up on the spot, one that sounded even worse said out loud than in her thoughts. Either way, Morgana couldn't shake the feeling that Gaius was aware of her past relationship with Merlin even before she uttered that god-forsaken excuse. As a last desperate dash for secrecy, she made him promise to not reveal a word of this to anyone. However, she didn't know if he could be trusted.

After the physician's departure, Morgana entered his chambers, shutting the door behind herself. She sat down at Gaius's table, fiddling with her thumbs to kill time. It seemed to take the physician an eternity to follow up on his promise of fetching Merlin, and her boredom steadily rose.

Worst of all, everywhere she looked there was a memory of her estranged lover, and she felt suffocated. Led by something inexplicable – or perhaps just something she refused to explain to herself –, she entered Merlin's bedroom. _Just one last time,_ she told herself. _To say goodbye to all the memories that had transpired here._

It felt like a different life, and in a way, it was: she was no longer the old king's carefree ward but the future queen. She tried not to think about that here.

As the sadness of nostalgia descended upon her, she felt a heavy weight pulling her down and she flopped powerlessly onto Merlin's bed, and allowed a rush of memories to overpower her as she ran her hands through the linen she used to so often sleep in.

Lost in reminiscence, she almost didn't hear the footsteps resounding in the corridor. She quickly exited Merlin's room, closing the door behind herself and trying to assume the most casual position possible after sitting down at Gaius's table.

Finally, Merlin entered.

A look of hurt flitted across the handsome boy's face that disappeared as quickly as it had come, to be replaced by an infuriating mask of stoicism. Morgana rose from her seat, moved by an overpowering desire to touch him, to hug him, to… when she recognized the emotion that explained her peculiar behavior, she struggled to stifle it.

"Gaius sad you've sent for me, milady," Merlin said, his voice even, but his eyes quivering.

"Yes, I have," Morgana said, trying her best to sound as official as he did, as though it were a contest of who was affected less. "I've came to strike a deal with you."

Merlin blinked in surprise, but the mask of emotionlessness was quickly back in its place.

"I want you to leave Camelot," she ground out at last, the slightest of tremors in her voice. This time, Merlin could not conceal his shock. "I don't want you to be here for my wedding. I don't want you to be here, ever, at all." There was a slight smile tugging at Merlin's lips, much to her discomfort. "Anything you want. You name it and it's yours. All I ask is that you never return."

"All I want," he said, pausing briefly before delivering the coup de grace, "is you."

Morgana's heart missed a beat, then shock became anger, and she snapped, "You can't have me. I'm Arthur's, in case you forgot."

"Stuff like that didn't seem to bother you when you agreed to marry him while you were still with me," Merlin said.

Morgana wanted to punch him and cry at the same time. "And I hope one day you'll understand my reasons. But –"

"What was it that Uther told you to convince you to leave me and marry that sorry excuse for a Crown Prince?" Merlin said, unusually daring and malevolent.

Morgana smiled ruefully, her anger mounting. "That man is half a leg in the grave already, and when he's not, he's suffering from a mental illness. What makes you think he could have said _anything_ to influence my decision?"

Merlin took a step closer, and Morgana suddenly felt uncomfortably hot. Her body couldn't deny what her mind refused to acknowledge. "No…" he said, his voice sweet like honey, but his words as noxious as the most potent of poisons. "I don't think he threatened you. But he's a master of manipulation. He could have said something to make you feel indebted to him, or to Arthur, or to make it seem like you could –"

"Enough!" Morgana said shrilly, and Merlin stopped short. "I offered you a deal. Take it or leave it. Decide _now_."

"I can't be bought," he replied harshly, affronted.

"Consider this your good karma," Morgana said. "God acting through me to give you what you deserve for all you toils and troubles. Or do you want to be Arthur's unappreciated servant for the rest of your life?"

Merlin's face twitched with temptation. Morgana's eyes glistened with hope. "I won't be bought," the servant repeated stubbornly, noticing the glint in her eyes.

Morgana's nostrils flared. "Fine," she said furiously. "You've made your bed. Sleep well in it."

She started towards the door, but Merlin grabbed her by the wrist and turned her around.

"What!?" she demanded, snapping her hand away and caressing her wrist as though it were contaminated by his touch.

"Did you ever love me?" he asked, all pretenses of strength and indifference gone, stripped to the bone, to the very core of his being, a boy who was only ever abandoned by the people he loved. "Or was it all just a game to you?"

Looking into his eyes, she found herself unable to lie, to inflict even more damage on the bloodied and beaten soul of the sorcerer. "I loved you," she said softly, "more than I ever thought possible."

"Do you…" Merlin began, slowly walking towards her, and she was rooted to the spot, staring at him like an unavoidable natural catastrophe, "…still love me?" Within minutes, her face was in his cold hands, caressed by his long fingers. She looked into his eyes, and she could see that he still loved her, and when he looked into hers, he saw that hers mirrored his. He was merely an inch from her lips when she snapped his hand away and, struggling with tears, she cried, "NO!"

"I love you," she admitted after what seemed like an eternity of denial, hoping this would at least undo some of the damage she had inflicted upon him and facilitate his moving on, "but I love Arthur as well. I chose him over you, and I would choose him over and over again, in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred versions of this reality. And that's the end of it," she said. "Don't try to ruin it for me, or God help me!"

And with a swish of her cloak, she was already gone, out of his chambers, out of his life.

Merlin watched her leave, hating and loving her at the same time, forever wondering what had transpired between her and Uther, unable to shake the feeling that if he found out, he would forgive her.

But all he had left of her was the threat that would continue to hang in the air long after she had uttered it.

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A/N: Thank you so much again for sharing your opinions of the previous chapter. I'm sorry you find Arthur and Morgana unsympathetic and I hope you will warm to them as the story progresses. Neither of them are bad, they just have a tendency to make bad choices.

This chapter was originally much longer, but I decided to cut it up into shorter parts to make it easier to read online. More will be uncovered about the characters' past and motivations (which play a great part in the decisions they are making today), so I hope you won't judge any of them too hard based solely on this chapter. I also really hope events coming up in chapters 6 to 8 will alter your perception of them.

Thank you so much for reading, and as always, if you'd like, reviews make my life!


	6. The Wedding

_Chapter Six_

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 **T** he days until January 30th passed in a blur.

All Morgana and Arthur did was work from sunrise to sundown, though their areas of expertise differed.

Arthur was busy attempting to establish himself as a sovereign ruler. Such an act was hard enough in itself, but adding insult to injury, the median age of the noblemen he was now in contact with thanks to his newly begotten position was almost twice his age. Admittedly, he often felt quite lost, and was more than grateful for his fiancée's supportive presence after each day of work.

Meanwhile, Morgana's aim was to prove that she was an asset to Arthur's reign. Much of her time was consumed by planning their Upcoming Union Ceremony (which she was determined to make the most spectacular event for years to come), but she consecrated time and effort into organizing other societal events as well. Her reason was simply "Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer." She explained further by saying that the wives of the noblemen she met were in possession of the secrets their important and powerful husbands held, but had much quicker tongues in the presence of other ladies, especially those they considered trusted friends. Morgana also organized a short tour around neighboring villages as a means to introduce the new sovereigns to the nation.

Arthur was uncertain about many of Morgana's methods, but according to his trusted informants (including Merlin), his popularity was unprecedentedly high, and he slowly eased into trusting Morgana's decisions. When he was struggling to decide who best to appoint as the next Duke of Devonshire, Morgana advised him to simply give the position to people he knew he could trust, regardless of competence. "They'll learn the job's perks on the job itself," Morgana said. "We can't afford another George Cunningham." In the end, the balance tipped in favor of Morgana's idea when Uther, in a rare lucid streak, confirmed it as something he would do.

The differences that had once before separated them were starting to rear their ugly heads once again, menacing the stability of the sovereign rulers of Camelot and by extension, the kingdom itself. So it seemed, not all issues could be solved by the passing of time.

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Then finally, January 30th came.

Their Coronation and Union Ceremony were like nothing the people of Camelot had ever seen – including its noblemen and women.

Invitees came from all walks of life: from the extremely poor peasant through the commoner to the men and women of the noblest of blood and the richest of ancestors.

The ceremony began with the arrival of Morgana Le Fay and her ladies in waiting in a golden carriage driven by white horses. Immediately, the orchestra stationed outside began to play. The carriage driver, dressed in gold, helped Morgana and the ladies out of the carriage. No one noticed him driving away as the girls began their walk towards the entrance of the Castle. The youngest of her ladies, walking both at the front of the line and at the very end, threw rose petals in their wake.

Morgana wore a long white dress adorned with golden specks; to protect from the cold, she wore a long, fur cape dyed red on the outside. As she walked, spectators got a peak of her golden shoes.

Her ladies, dressed in gold, were an equally pleasing sight to behold, but eyes never wavered long from the future queen and her raven-haired beauty.

The crowd went wild. The guards, stationed to form a protective line between royals and commoners, were the only incentive stopping the masses, who had never before seen such beauty and riches, from rushing to touch the women who seemed more like mirages and dreams than real people.

Arthur Pendragon awaited her at the top of the steps leading to the Castle entrance, dressed in chainmail and adorned with a red cape emblazoned with the Pendragon crest. He radiated strength – the vision of a man fit to rule a kingdom as mighty as Camelot despite his tender age.

Finally, Morgana reached the top of the steps and bowed in front of her King, a gesture of respect he proceeded to return fully. Then the royal couple turned back and bid their goodbyes to the masses gathered for their celebration. Lastly, Arthur extended an arm which his fiancée took, and with one last look at their subjects, they entered the Castle and its enormous, wooden gates closed behind them with a loud _thud_.

The rest of the celebration could only be witnessed by noblemen and women.

The orchestra beginning their song signaled the beginning of the coronation ceremony itself. The eyes of the ballroom immediately turned to the royal couple as they entered. Amidst wild uproar and a standing ovation, Arthur was the first to ascend the podium where the archbishop and other prominent members of the church waited to pronounce the new monarchs and present their royal regalia.

As the crown was placed on Arthur's head, the ballroom erupted in impassioned cries of "Long live the King!"

After the attendees quieted down, the bishop holding the Queen's regalia stepped forward.

It was Morgana's turn to ascend the podium to the sound of heartfelt applause. When she did, she knelt before the King and humbly bowed her head, as he had done previously.

"By the sacred laws vested in me," Arthur began, taking the crown from the bishop, "I pronounce you, Morgana… Queen of Camelot."

Amidst wild cheering, Arthur helped Morgana up from her feet and the two kissed before turning back to their subjects, holding hands, glowing like gods.

And so the reign of Arthur and Morgana Pendragon began, a start that no one of the attendees would ever forget as long as they lived.

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Two days later, Merlin requested a day off and, much like the people he had used to made fun of in his youth, sat in the tavern all by his lonesome, trying to drink life's sorrows away.

Having been there to witness the slow development of Arthur and Morgana's relationship, he wondered how two such unlikely people could have ended up not only together but somehow blissfully happy as well.

The moment Morgana Le Fay had stepped foot in the Castle of Camelot, seeking shelter in the kingdom of her father's best friend, she had upset the very fabric of the life of its habitants. King Uther received the child he had always wanted but never got; Prince Arthur, in her, the object of his fantasies as well as the bane of his existence.

To distract Morgana from the tragedy it was impossible to ever truly recover from, and to motivate his lazy son to do better in his subjects, Uther had the same teachers tutor them. Arthur initially thought all it would take to win this thinly veiled competition was to put in some effort, which he had previously refused to do as an act of defiance of his father's authority, with whom he had a rocky relationship. While his grades did improve, the more effort he put in, the more Morgana did as well. No matter how hard he tried, he was never able to catch up with her. It wasn't that he wasn't intelligent or well-read; but whereas he was great, Morgana was excellent.

And jealousy bred resentment. As his last remnants of hope of winning faded, so did any chance of him liking her. His jealousy gained traction the first time his father asked him why he couldn't be more like Morgana. Over the course of the remaining years of their adolescence, Uther would continue to ask his son a million variations of the same question.

In Morgana, Uther saw a kindred soul, who shared his thirst for knowledge, while his son's passions were limited to sword-fighting, which he cruelly dismissed by saying, "Kings rule with their minds, not their swords." Case in point, Uther once invited a savage from the outskirts of Camelot to battle Arthur. The savage, called Attila, was thrice his size and naturally beat the intimidated adolescent in a duel. "Do you still think physical qualities matter all that much when it comes to ruling?" Morgana had asked heartlessly, to get back at Arthur for taunting her for her frailty.

At the same time, Arthur desired her immensely, constantly wavering between hatred and love, jealousy and adoration. It was hard not to: she was ethereally beautiful, brilliant, irresistibly charming, the life of every party, the belle of every ball.

Uther and his son's relationship reached a breaking point whereupon during the afterparty of a melee the King introduced Morgana as his daughter and Arthur as his "other child." Arthur, unnoticed by his father, left the party and spent the rest of the night beating dummies outside with a sword as the rain fell in downpours on that dreary February day. Uther only noticed that his son was absent after the party ended and the guests had gone home or retired to their guest chambers.

The consequence of his desperate rebellion, Arthur fell sick with pneumonia, which he nearly didn't recover from. Uther, drowning in regret, vowed to never treat his son the same way again after a year of bottling his feelings up, he finally let them be known. The last drop that made the proverbial cup overflow was Arthur grinding out the following question amidst heart-wrenching tears: "Do you want to make her your heir and not me?" Uther finally realized the gravity of his mistakes. He limited his time with Morgana to a minimum and never called her 'daughter' again. His flesh and blood was more important.

The horse race ended. But if Arthur thought they could then reconcile their differences, he was infinitely wrong.

Morgana blamed him for losing the only semblance of family she had after the massacre of her own. She refused to talk to him for weeks, and months passed before they could engage in civil conversation again. When they finally did, it was Morgana who apologized for 'stepping on his turf', for seeming like she wanted to take something that was his, even though her intention had only ever been to win; she explained that competing gave her a new sense of purpose, and was a welcome distraction from her otherwise depressing thoughts. Arthur apologized for his role in the deterioration of their relationship, but by that point, it was too late.

They reconciled, but again, nothing happened: Morgana seemed to have moved on, and Arthur almost missed when she hated him with bitter resentment as opposed to treating him with utter indifference and unfelt politeness.

They moved on from each other, from the unsaid and unexplored attraction that neither could deny but neither would admit.

Arthur, after a string of more or less successful attempts at meaningful romantic relationships, began dating one of her ladies in waiting, namely Guinevere. Guinevere wasn't as spell-binding of beauty as her mistress, but her charm and kind heart for all she might have lacked in that department. It was the first time Arthur ever fell in love, and so it was the same for Guinevere.

Uther found out about their relationship six months after its secret birth, and re-stationed her under the pretext of being dissatisfied with her work and amidst accusations of her being a gossipmonger and disrupting the peace of the servants in general through her despicable antics.

Arthur, the hopeless lover, confronted his father, who then only had ever the more incentive to separate the two lovers. Arthur fought for her with all his might, but Uther was still King: Guinevere was re-assigned to a duchess on the far outskirts of the kingdom. The duchess was an old, childless widow who took Guinevere in as a daughter, showering her with love and affection and possessions, fulfilling her long-forgotten desire of being a noblewoman. Arthur wrote her an endless amount of letters, begging her to return, assuring her of the consistency of his love, promising to figure out a way to reverse the situation. However, Guinevere chose material possessions over him. Her letters discouraged him from escalating the situation with his father and assured him that she had never been happier than she was with the Duchess of York. For a long time, Arthur would make sure to guard his heart from love as well as the possibility of it getting wounded so severely again. No one but Uther and the two teenagers involved, and the King intended on keeping it that way, so ashamed he was of his son's sinful interest in a filthy servant – and Merlin, in whom Arthur confided, having no one else to. And Merlin never told anyone.

Little did King Uther know that his beloved ward would soon disappoint him in much the same way. After a string of lovers of high lineage, Morgana soon grew tired of not only the disappointing commonness of their opinions and therefore lives, but also the endless and unnecessary power play she had brought from the competition she so missed into the one aspect of her life she never should have: romance. She never had a high opinion of men, after watching her father mistreat her mother all her life until their untimely deaths, and had difficulty trusting them. However, she soon realized that the way to right her father's wrongs and rise above her parents' mistakes was to create a fulfilling relationship, and not to attempt to out-do her father's treachery. Hurting, and being hurt, and hurting again to feel powerful – it was a deadly cycle.

Merlin still remembered the day she ran to him, tears in her eyes, hugging her so close as though without support she might fall apart, begging her to teach her how to love again, because she forgot, perhaps she never even really knew. Merlin, who had fallen in love with her during their many conversations, was more than ready to oblige.

They healed each other's wounds – Morgana told her of the abuse her father dealt their entire family, resulting of his first-born running away to pursue a life of pleasantry, not wanting to have the blood of thousands on his hands, as he had accused their father Gorlois of having. Merlin opened up to her about the difficulties her mother faced being a single mother, of having to grow up too soon, of having to leave his home to be a servant of a master as unkind as Arthur to be able to send some money home to be able to support her ailing mother. Together, they learned to love again, and they were happy.

He remembered her telling him that she had nothing left to stay in the Castle for. She had escaped into balls, dresses, jewels, men and books and the tireless pursuance of knowledge after even Uther had abandoned her. But all that, she realized, amounted to nothing. Her life, she was forced to acknowledge, was lost the day of the siege; while she didn't die physically, everything she had ever held dear was destroyed, and while she was alive, she was as good as dead. She was only reborn after Merlin gave her a new sense of purpose: to create a family that was healthier than her own, the only way to heal the wounds an abusive home had inflicted upon her. Merlin, who grew up without a father, united with her in her mission to create a home for their children, a home they had always only dreamed of.

It seemed like two lost souls had found each other and gave each other direction after years of aimless wandering. All evidence pointed to a happy ending.

But life is rarely as we plan it.

A few nights after the two hatched a plan to restart their lives in Merlin's birth village, Uther fell ill. Morgana didn't want to leave without reconciling with the man who had loved her like a daughter, more than she had ever been loved. That night, before the dementia really took its toll on him, Uther requested to talk to Morgana and his son, in that order. That night, he made her an offer she couldn't refuse.

He _knew._ After all, he knew Morgana better than Morgana knew herself, he thought. When they had talked, he could immediately recognize when she was lying, like when she had so vehemently insisted that he had in no way influenced his decision-making. He also knew that she still loved him, even if she did also love the new King – his presence wouldn't have mattered enough to bribe him to get away otherwise.

He drowned his umpteenth shot of whiskey and asked for a new one, the only antidote his insurmountable troubles. What could Uther have told her? She loved him more than she had ever thought possible. He knew she had meant that. What could be more important than the promises they had made each other, what could be a more noble calling than love itself?

He couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how much he knew her, there would always be more layers to uncover, like a closed off rose petal, a flower that died and lost its beauty if it lost all its petals. He was faced to acknowledge that he perhaps didn't know her as well as he thought.

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As Arthur and Morgana lay next to each other after their wedding night, cuddled together, neither could have been happier. For both of them, what had turned out as a marriage of convenience had evolved into an epic romance.

The image of her, raven hair up in chignons, glistening a warm brown color in the sunlight, her eyes green like the first buds of after a long winter, her lips the color of ripe cherries, her smile the beginning of spring. She never did, or would ever, look more beautiful him than she had in that moment, about to become his partner for life, the mother of his children. All of him would be hers, and all of her would be his, and he couldn't imagine a more blessed predicament.

Morgana fell asleep equally happily, but was tormented with nightmares of the past she thought she had long ago banished into a closed off corner of her psyche. That night, all the hurt and pain erupted within her like a volcano thought dormant. She awoke, drenched in sweat, panting heavily, his dead sister's words resounding in her head, _You left me to die._

 _You told me to save myself,_ she longed to reply, but there was no one there but her own conscience. There hadn't been for over eight years now. Would the pain ever stop?

She curled back beside him, forever grateful for his presence, her only respite from the harsh world that thundered outside, reminding her of the power it wielded against her.

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In the middle of the night, Morgana entered Uther's chambers. Uther sat by the windows, staring outside at the downpour, appearing transfixed, like a child. She cleared her throat and Uther

"Oh. Daughter. You scared me."

"Daughter again, huh?" Morgana replied dryly.

"Well, yes-" Arthur began lamely, but Morgana ignored him pointedly.

She glanced at the whiskey on his bedside table. "Mind if I pour some for myself?" she asked, beckoning in its general direction. Uther nodded, unable to make sense of the night's unforeseen events. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Morgana, dear?"

Morgana could barely contain a derisive snort. "This isn't a social call," she said. "I've come to talk to you about our… arrangement."

"What about it? I thought we agreed –"

"No, no," Morgana said quickly. "We agreed. I was just wondering… what do _you_ have to get out of this? Why were you so intent on cutting this deal with me?"

"Now, now… let's not call it a deal," Uther said carefully. "It's more of an – agreement. Yes. Agreement would be a finer word. I do not make bets against my son." Morgana wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

"Yes," Morgana said, humoring him. "So then… why did you make it?"

Uther had always had an explosive temper, but as he age, he seemed to fly off the handle much more easily than in his youth. "I told you!" he snapped. "I told you I thought my son was as unfit to be King as ever. Now, I couldn't possibly someone who wasn't my own flesh and blood my heir – it would be like spitting myself in the face!"

Morgana was stunned by his temper. She put her glass of whiskey down, and stared at him impassively. "I know." She said. "You told me that already."

"Exactly!" Uther snapped, then suddenly he seemed like he was on the verge of tears. "So why do you have to make me repeat it? It's bad enough that I – my last act as a father – I'm so ashamed – "

"I was thinking," Morgana said. "Maybe it isn't worth it for me. I love Arthur, more than I had ever imagined possible. I was having second thoughts."

Uther rose from his seat, furious, an image of the tyrant he had once been. Morgana recoiled instinctively. Then Uther recomposed himself, apologized, then set back in his seat, shattered. Morgana made no move to comfort him.

"I offered you everything," Uther said, his voice a plea for pity, "I offered you your old Kingdom back. I even talked to Arthur for you. After he deals with the Saxon threat, he promised he would expand our borders. But I needn't have. He loves you more than I'd ever imagined possible. He would have done it for you alone without my interference."

Morgana swallowed hard.

"What more could you want?" Uther asked, looking up at her in desperation. He buried his face in his palms, sobbing, "My kingdom… oh, my mighty kingdom… how it has gone to the dogs…"

Morgana was about to leave when Uther's head shot up in her direction. "How could you leave my kingdom to rot, like yours has, under Saxon rule? Do you want the barbarians to take over the entire Isle and bring us back to the Stone Age? You know as well as I that Camelot is the last strong kingdom standing in the way of the Saxons for total domination of the British Isles. The other countries are small and weak –"

"I know," Morgana cut in. "I'm sorry."

"You'd better be," Arthur said, rising from his seat again, his face contorted by white hot rage. "Because if you abandon me, you'll have defied your parents' sacrifice for you, their only remaining legacy! If you don't take your kingdom back, your parents will have died for nothing! If you don't become Queen of Cornwall, your mother will have sacrificed her life by the side of an abuser for no reason! If you run away with that wretched servant you so love, you will have nullified her sacrifice, spat at her grave –"

"I said," Morgana said through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry."

As Uther continued raging and raving, Morgana abruptly turned on her heels and marched out of the room, ignoring Uther yelling derogative slurs after her. The illness had truly taken its toll on him; all of his victims would have acknowledged his affliction by dementia a fitting end for a king who had prided himself most in his intelligence and knowledge, two assets which he had abused to no end during his reign of terror against magic users.

Whatever, Morgana thought, he wouldn't remember anything in the morning anyway.

She began making her way towards Gaius's chambers. Once inside, she sneaked into Merlin's room and stripped down all her clothes, hoping to return them to her proper chambers before anyone noticed it was missing. Only once she donned Merlin's clothes did she feel comfortable again.

And then, like a snake that sheds its skin, he became Merlin again.

Now, at least, he knew everything he wanted to know.

His heart was still racing in his chest with all the knowledge he had acquired and the risk he had taken to obtain it.

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Author's Note: I'd be _really_ glad for some reviews right now.


	7. The Visitor

_Chapter Seven_

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 **M** organa was sitting in the library, rereading _The Art of War_ for the umpteenth time, preparing in a frantic rush for the inevitable: a war with the Saxons. It was the moment she had been waiting for her all her life – the moment which carried in itself the possibility to reclaim her crown. While most people dreaded war, sometimes, she thought, it was the only solution. In this case, morbidly enough, she was looking forward to it.

Suddenly, a servant entered, snapping her out of her reverie, and bowed before the Queen before saying, "Your Majesty," the young girl greeted her, "I've come to inform you that the painting of Guillaume d'Amiens has arrived, and Master Hugo has sent couple of poems he sent over to you to review, to help him decide which one to publish. More gifts are set to arrive within the week, but the other artists have requested more time to deliver their work, so as to ensure they're all of the highest quality."

Morgana burst into a most pleased smile. "Thank you," she said, "Now walk with me." This time, her smile was meant as a subtle encouragement directed at the visibly distressed girl. Morgana suddenly couldn't recall ever having seen her around the Castle, and presumed she was new and therefore understandably still fidgety around the new Queen.

 _Queen_. Huh. The word felt alien on her lips in relation to herself. She had long ago lost hope of ever becoming one. Now, if only she could be the Queen of the country she really wanted…

Before leaving, Morgana called over to the librarian – an old scribe who doubled as a monk in his free time and was presently poring over the Scriptures – to refrain from putting away the books she had picked out, as she was planning to return to finish her reading after she reviewed her newly arrived gifts.

"What time is it?" she asked the servant as they began their way over to the Throne Room.

"I – uh, I left the kitchens at around half past eleven, Your Majesty," the girl replied nervously, "You still have two hours before the pheasants arrive to bring their petty squabbles before the Throne."

Morgana remarked to herself that Castle servants tended to consider themselves something not quite defined, but certainly above a common pheasant, judging by the distaste with which they pronounced the very class they themselves were from. If such illusions helped her cope with her servitude, Morgana thought, she didn't want to be the one to illuminate her.

Morgana had decided to keep this little tradition of Uther's (inviting pheasants to the Castle once a week and allow them to present their problems to him) for the very same reason she had overnight become a great patron of the arts: she and Arthur were young and inexperienced, and with the powerful Uther gone, they were a clear target for anyone with lofty ambitions. She wanted her nation's support, because - obviously - a king disliked by his subjects was easier to overthrow. She also thought it wiser to attempt to avert a crisis before it happened than struggle to deal with it once it has.

And if there was one thing her parents' betrayal had taught her, it was that _everybody_ wanted to rule the world, and danger abounded even in such relatively peaceful circumstances. Whenever she voiced such concerns to Arthur, however, he simply brushed them off as mere paranoia; regardless, Morgana remained unwavering in her conviction that no one, not even the Crown's oldest friends, could be trusted. If they smelled even the tiniest whiff of weakness emanating from Arthur, they would strike.

Oftentimes, Morgana found herself pondering whether the concerns Uther had expressed in relation to his son on that night he had made her his offer, wondering if his dissatisfaction with Arthur didn't come from a place of parental severity but from honest, unbiased assessment of Arthur's qualities.

In their adolescence, Morgana had certainly shared Uther's views on Arthur: the current King used to be volatile, rebellious, uncontrolled, lazy and jealous, amongst other, similarly unflattering things. But beneath the protective shell – as Morgana liked to call it – lay a heart of gold.

Arthur Pendragon was strong, courageous, steadfast, and honest. As a person, he was impeccable. As a ruler, however… he considered it the height of indecency to doubt the purity of the motives of those he considered his friends, and couldn't comprehend that monarchs had no friends, only allies; and even allies only as long as their interests aligned.

Having admired him only from afar for so long, Morgana had honestly begun to believed that he was sufficiently changed to be able to rule a kingdom. However, from up close, Morgana could clearly see that Arthur's reluctance to acknowledge the bad in people could jeopardize not only his reign but her own future as well. And they had barely begun their reign. She shuddered to think what other obstacles still awaited them on the path to greatness.

In his assessment of her, however, Arthur wasn't entirely wrong. Her oftentimes downright traumatizing upbringing had left its mark on her. Although in retrospect, she judged that it was for the better. All the unspeakable experiences of her early life had more than adequately prepared her for the task at hand. The only task she truly cared about. Her life's calling was, from the start, to be the greatest ruler Cornwall had ever seen, whatever the cost. And now, she felt ready to answer that calling.

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"Ah, this is beautiful, don't you think?" Morgana asked, admiring the enormous painting Guillaume d'Algiers had sent her as a gift of gratitude for her generous dation to him.

The same freckle-faced servant girl from the library stood behind her, blinking furiously, as though she were suffering from some sort of severe mental affliction, unable to believe that the Queen was asking her puny opinion. She opened her mouth several times to formulate a reply, and failed each miserably each time. Impatient and irritated, Morgana cleared her throat, shooting the freckly girl a dark look.

"I – I think the painter did a m-marvelous job," the girl finally managed, stammering as though she had a speech impediment.

Morgana cocked an eyebrow inquisitorially, and observed her reaction as the servant turned back towards the painting and continued her assessment of it. The girl's entire face lit up as she did so, her eyes sparkling with wonderment as she described what little knowledge she had of the art of painting. "It looks so realistic," the girl said, "It feels as though I'm there myself."

The girl's words may have been flattery, but no one could fake a sparkle in their eyes. Morgana smiled to herself contentedly; this was exactly the effect she had wanted to achieve. "I wasn't there, but the ceremony – the dresses – the decorations – everything looks so beautiful, like something straight out of a dream. Anyone who looks at this picture would want to be you, both of you," the girl went on, seemingly enraptured.

"Alright," Morgana said, clicking her tongue, "So, where are the poems?"

The young girl rushed to collect them and quickly brought them over to her.

"Oh, wow," Morgana said, laughing as the servant handed her the pile of parchment Master Hugo had sent over. "I've always known poets were indecisive, but this…"

The young girl laughed dutifully, but, tired of flattery for the day, Morgana quickly dismissed her. Reading over the twenty-or so version of the same poem describing her beauty and Arthur's obvious fitness to rule the kingdom despite his young age (which he cleverly deducted from the size of his pectoral muscles), Morgana wondered how anyone could like poetry, or how anyone could be self-loathing enough to pursue it as a profession.

All this time, Morgana had believed that poets worked a completely different way: that inspiration could seize them, at any moment of day, be it night or morn, and then bled out all the feelings he could no longer cope with alone on parchment. Apparently, the reality of writing was quite different, not as emotional or mysterious.

Morgana wanted to depict an image of Arthur as a fearless, tough and infinitely cunning monarch, as Uther had been - through art people consumed as well as everything else. She didn't need to have praises sung about her intelligence because she was merely Queen Consort, and it would fare better for Arthur's reign if she remained in the background, no matter what the truth was.

She sighed to herself, remembering Arthur's comments on her methods as Queen Consort. How he loathed the side of her that was cold, calculating and cunning. Arthur had often expressed distate in the harsh measures he often had to take as king in order to maintain an appearance of strength. Morgana, who had grown up seeing her father do much worse on a daily – or at the very least, weekly basis –, didn't feel the slightest bit morally conflicted by many of the things Arthur had difficulty stomaching.

She knew his inability to truly accept the dark side of kingdom was a testament to his pure heart, and that her own unlfinching endorsement thereof a remnant of a broken home. In fact, the part of him she liked best was the part that she considered made him unfit to rule: the powerful sense of justice, the gentleness, the selflessness... and she knew that the part of her he liked the most was similarly too soft to rule. However, they were fated to be monarchs since birth and politics was a dirty business, where, if they wanted to come out on top, they would have to eventually lose all sentimentality.

Everyone wanted the Crown, but only one could have it.

The future was, by all means, foreboding, but they had chosen their paths and had to live with the consequences of their choices.

Suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts, Arthur entered the Throne Room in with an unfamiliar middle-aged man. Morgana rose from her seat on her throne to greet them.

"Oh, hello, Morgana," Arthur said, bursting into a grin upon spotting her. "May I present to you, my Uncle, Agravaine de Bois. He travelled all the way to Camelot from Beaufort to extend his congratulations to us. Agravaine, my wife Morgana."

"Morgana Le Fey?" Agravaine asked with a grin, dark eyes sparkling. "I believe we have met before. I came by to watch a melee, I think, a few years ago, and saw you there with Arthur," he said, answering Morgana's inquisitorial expression.

"Ah yes, I remember now," the brunette said with a graceful laugh, remembering just the melee Agravaine was talking about. "It's Pendragon now, by the way," she added jokingly.

"Ah, yes," Agravaine replied with a slight laugh. "Congratulations on your marriage. I heard the ceremony was beautiful."

"Why don't you see a live-size painting of it?" Morgana asked, bursting into a cocky grin. The three of them walked over to it.

"Have you commissioned this to be painted? It's certainly stunning." Agravaine said.

"Oh, no," Arthur said with a grin before Morgana could reply. "She didn't 'commission' them, per se. We just donated a generous sum of money to certain artists, who – how did you say it, honey? – repaid us the way they knew best: by sharing their gifts with us."

Brimming with pride, Arthur pulled his wife close to him and kissed the top of her head.

"Well, can I help it if our wedding was so inspirational?" Morgana said, making the two men laugh.

Arthur, who only had fond memories of his uncle, insisted the three of them have lunch and dinner together. During the afternoon – much to Morgana's displeasure – Arthur invited Agravaine to his meeting with the military. It was clear Arthur held his uncle in high esteem, which was understandable, she supposed, given their relation. She was possibly the only one she knew whose heart had been shattered so many times that she practically had no notion of family anymore.

Not to mention, despite his obvious charm and good manners and wonderful sense of humor, to her, there was just something suspicious about him that she couldn't quite put her finger upon. During lunch, Morgana attempted to get him to open up, but all he could get out of the marquis was that he was widowed and had children scattered all over the country. All of his children had respectable professions, except for his youngest son who fancied himself a philosopher. Agravaine said that only wealthy people could afford such follies; other people had to work for a living. He supposed, he said, his son was fortunate that way.

Much to Morgana's aggravation, Arthur invited Agravaine to join him during that afternoon's meeting with the military, during which they would discuss the Saxon threat and come up with a plan of action against the invaders. Arthur had never invited _her_ to join the meetings.

She felt furious with Arthur and jealous of Agravaine. That man had barely been in Arthur's life and he was already granting him access to military secrets? Morgana had been by his side all her life and never gave any cause for mistrust, and yet she, as Queen Consort, denied such trust.

Morgana had often found herself wondering whether Arthur was truly right and she was overly paranoid; she had made it her policy as Queen wife to be mistrustful where her King was guilelessly open, notably when it came to family.

However, after the two men left for the meeting, she would discover something that would cement her in her policies, and change her view of Agravaine forever.

That night, Arthur got so drunk at dinner that Agravaine had to help Morgana carry him to bed. Morgana had desperately wanted to talk to him without his uncle present, to share her concerns about him as well as the discovery she had made in the afternoon. However, once they had placed Arthur on the bed, the Knight was out quicker than a bonfire in the rain.

The following day, Arthur showed his uncle around town, and apparently his council was so invaluable that he was invited to meetings with noblemen who sought to donate to Arthur's causes as long as his and theirs aligned. Arthur, to her knowledge, had so far turned down every single offer. Later on in the afternoon, the two men went into the city, Arthur being eager to show off his kingdom to his beloved uncle.

Morgana was seething inside the entire day. She could barely concentrate on her beloved books, and halted all preparations for Cotillion, society events being the last thing she wanted to occupy herself with. That day, she worked tirelessly to put together a short exposé on the Saxon armies' battling habits (from what little she could find on the subject in the Castle's vast library) as well as some suggestions on how to best deal with the threat. She thought she had the most experience with the Saxons out of anyone and everyone in Camelot, and wondered, highly vexed, what merit Agravaine had to be included in such important discussions.

This continued for several days until on the sixth night of Agravaine's arrival, Morgana refused to allow Arthur to get slobbering drunk. Not wanting to suffer the hostess's wrath, Agravaine aided Morgana in her mission. Morgana had to constantly remind herself of her policy, so easy it was otherwise to fall under his spell.

However, once back in their chambers, the mood was spoiled. Arthur refused to talk to her, only responding to her questions with unintelligible hummings or one-word sentences, and it took quite a bit of prodding to get him to confess what was bothering him:

"Ever since Agravaine's arrived," he finally wound out, "you've been acting extremely weird."

That was the last drop in the proverbial cup, and Morgana exploded, " _I'm_ acting weird? Look at yourself. Inviting a perfect stranger to meetings, neglecting your duties, canceling meetings, drinking yourself to the ground –"

"Woah, woah, woah there, Morgana," Arthur said with a cocky smile that made Morgana's blood boil, "For the past two months, all I've done was work, work, work! I was always either doing my father's or your bidding! I'm King, after all! Don't I deserve a few days off once in a while?"

"We were just giving you council," Morgana said softly. "You didn't need to follow it. We were both just trying to help. Your father and I."

"Help, huh? I know both of you think I'm unfit for the throne!" Arthur yelled. "The day of the diagnosis of his illness, he begged me to wed you! BEGGED ME! He pretended it was because you were the only one I could trust at Court –"

"Which is true," Morgana interjected quickly.

"It is NOT true! I can absolutely trust Agravaine as well! He's my uncle, for God's sake!"

Morgana rolled her eyes in utter irritation and shook her head disbelievingly.

"At least," Arthur said, and for a moment Morgana could see the bottled up feelings surface before they were concealed again beneath a veneer of toughness, "Agravaine thinks I'm capable of ruling the Throne alone."

"I think you are too!" Morgana pretended to be aghast at the accusation.

"You don't even trust me to make my own decisions when it comes to whose council I listen to," Arthur snapped. "How do you expect me to believe you trust me with anything else? Time and again, you've went out of your way to convince me to do things your way during our reign." Morgana was about to point out how successful all of her ideas had been when Arthur quickly said, "I cherish your council but you are Queen Consort, not Queen!"

Morgana suddenly felt so angry she could not speak. Arthur was unleashing months of suppressed anger on her, however, and was relishing its every minute.

"This is why I don't invite you to my meetings! You would just go in there, try to take over, walk over me, question the intelligence of anybody but yourself –"

Morgana seemed to have found her voice in the meantime. "That is not true!" she yelled, interrupting him. "And I DON'T THINK YOU'RE UNFIT FOR THE THRONE!" Morgana was screaming by the end.

"Yes, you bloody think that," Arthur cried. "Don't tell me you accepted this because you loved me after two years of barely talking to me!"

"I – I –" Morgana spluttered.

"You didn't," Arthur said, trying to calm down, "And I know you do now. Or at least so I feel. But you didn't feel quite this way when you married me, did you? You married me for your own interests."

"I did not –"

"Do you think I'm STUPID?!" Arthur was screaming by this point, his face red with fury. "My father asked for you to talk to before he asked for me. And when he finally did, first of all, he begged me to wed you. During our many talks to follow, he would attempt to convince me that he felt remorse over not intervening in Cornwall's internal affairs, even though your father was his trusted friend. He asked me to not only make his kingdom greater, but to right his past wrongs." Morgana thought she might cry. Every word felt like another stab in the chest. "I'm assuming this is how he hooked you, right? He dangled the possiblity of reclaiming your throne in front of his eyes. I suppose you just couldn't resist, even if you had to marry me for it." Arthur's voice was a low, menacing hiss. Morgana struggled to suppress her tears.

"You're right," Morgana said, blinking furiously, "I didn't love you when I accepted your proposal, but don't pretend you weren't just fulfilling your father's last wish when you asked me to marry you. You're just as guilty as I in that aspect, and I won't let you pretend otherwise." Arthur was about to protest, but Morgana raised her voice, "And yes, if there's any chance that I can reclaim the throne I _rightfully deserve_ , I'll take it, just as you or Uther or anyone else would in my place. But I know that even if that happens, if it ever does, it will be in a far off future. That's not only why I accepted. I watched the Saxons ruin one country, and I could not just stand by as they tried to do the thing to the second country that had given me a home –"

Morgana supposed she could have lied, but it would have been of no use at this point. The undiscussed beginning of their relationship, morally debatable on both of their parts, had always bothered her, and had always felt it would be better for the both of them to come clean. This was, however, never the way she had envisaged it happening. This was the worst possible scenario unfolding.

"I suppose," Arthur said, interrupting. "That you don't think that without your help, I could manage it!?"

"I suppose not," Morgana said, eyes narrowed to slits. "Did you know, for example, that your beloved uncle, is the next in the line of your succession if you die?"

Arthur spluttered in disbelief. "Is this what you've been spending hours in the library for? Looking at my family tree? I know that as well, Morgana. You could have just asked me." There was an infuriating note of superciliousness in his voice.

"No, that's not what I was working on," Morgana snapped in response, "I've been in the library poring over anything I could find relating to the Saxons, as well as recalling my own memories. I put together a plan –" Morgana began rummaging in her cupboard for it, "as well as a few pointers on what I personally think you should –"

"Save your breath," Arthur said coolly, interrupting her again, "I'm not going to read it. As long as I live, I rule this country and not you. And you, as Queen Consort, are actually the next in the line of succession in the case of my untimely death, not Agravaine."

"But I would never –"

"I do believe I have more to fear when it comes to you than when it comes to Agravaine," Arthur said, his eyes sparkling with disappointment and mistrust.

Morgana took a deep breath to quell her fury. But as enraged as she was, she was tired of fighting. "If you truly believe what you're saying," she said. "Then you're the greatest fool I've ever had the misfortune to know."

Without another word, she was already out of his chambers.

She waited to fall apart till she returned to her own.

In bed that night, she tossed and turned fitfully, unable to sleep, wondering how her life could have gone from heaven to hell in a matter of minutes.

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A/N: I'm begging you, if you're reading this, please leave a review!


	8. The Nightmare

_Chapter Eight_

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Morgana woke up, drenched in sweat, heart pounding against her ribcage, in the middle of the night. The rain pattered against the window panes furiously. Another nightmare. Thankfully, she could no longer recall its exact details but the feeling of dread stayed with her long after awakening.

She tried to fall back asleep, but to no avail. Eventually, when the clock was nearing midnight, that this situation was no longer acceptable. She thought the nightmares would eventually leave her like they always did after at most two nights in a row, but the recurring nightmares of her adolescence seemed to have come back once again to haunt her. It had taken her years to somehow process leaving her sister behind as a band of bandits chased them, merely a few miles away from Camelot. Back then, she had thought that the moment she relayed the coup d'etat in Cornwall, Uther would immediately provide aid. How naïve she had been!

"Save yourself," her sister Morgause had implored as she lay, half-dead, in Morgana's arms after one of the bandits had thrown a knife at her, "Don't worry about me. If you die, so does any hope for the Le Fey family to regain the throne that is rightfully ours!"

Morgana refused to budge from her side, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You can't avoid to be sentimental now," Morgause reminded her, her voice strong and commanding despite the sorry state she was in. "Otherwise, we'll have come all this way for nothing! If you stay with me now to appease your conscience, we will both die, and with us, the entire Le Fay dynasty. If you live, hope lives on."

Their conversation continued in much the same vein before Morgana was finally convinced that by futilely attempting to save Morgause's life she could nullify the sacrifice of her entire family for their sake. That day, she made the hardest decision of her life. She ran from Morgause's side, knowing painfully well what the bandits would do to her when they found her alone.

"Thank you," Morgause's last words had been to her, "for being a good sister."

She never forgave herself for the incident even if by all means it was the logically sound one. Years after the incident, despite her ambitions, she couldn't help but think that the morally sound decision would have been to die with her that night, no matter what that entailed. It had taken her years to somehow process both her sister's death and her own involvement in it. The memory hadn't haunted her in years. So why now?

She wondered whether it was all the talk of waging war against the Saxons that might have gotten to her subconsciously. It seemed like a logical enough explanation, so why was she still somehow doubting its veracity? No matter how hard she tried to convince herself of this perfectly plausible possibility, her mind refused to accept it. She had a feeling that the truth lay elsewhere.

Frustrated by her inexplicable premonitions, she decided that regardless of the cause, she needed a cure for it, and needed it as soon as possible.

She descended to Gaius's chambers. She knocked on the door impatiently until her calls were finally answered. She was about to knock again when the door suddenly opened, and on its other side stood Merlin, holding a candle in his hand for some light.

She awkwardly lowered her hand, blushing slightly. At the sight of Merlin in his nightgown, she couldn't help but be filled with desire. Desire for him, for what they once had… the setting, after all, was all too familiar.

"Gaius is asleep," Merlin said, then added the last two words with great effort, "My Queen," he even bowed. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice was hoarse.

"Enough with the pleasantries, Merlin," Morgana snapped. "Do you have sleeping draught on stock by any chance? I need it, right now,"

"No, Your Majesty, we don't have any on stock right now, but I could make one for you right now –"

"I said, stop with the pleasantries!" Morgana snapped, and brushing past him, she entered his chambers. "Prepare one for me right now. I'll wait here for it." She sat down at Gaius's table.

Merlin looked at her strangely, but before she could ask him what was bothering him, he closed the door behind her and lit up more candles as he gathered the ingredients, yawning. Morgana's chest constricted with guilt at what she was doing to him. He was barely awake and yet still serving his Queen. The life of a servant, she thought, was a truly deplorable, abhorrent existence. She never would have wanted to trade with him, and struggled to imagine how hard and demeaning it must be for him to serve a woman whom he undoubtedly thought betrayed him. And in a way, she had had. She betrayed everyone for the same reason: the eventual reclaiming of Cornwall.

Sometimes, seeing the death and destruction that lay in her wake, wondered if it was all worth it. Sometimes, she doubted her very own ability to accomplish the task her parents had entrusted her with before sending her away with her sister in the middle of the night. All she had left of her parents was the promise she had made to them that night. Would betraying that be akin to betraying her own parents?

Her heart filled with rage as she imagined the Saxon savages who had pillaged her lands, made slaves of her mighty, proud people, and murdered her entire family in cold blood ruling the country her family had fought so long and so hard for, without the slightest consequences for their actions. Knowing that there was a possibility for her to take revenge, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did not take it.

She observed Merlin sadly as he began preparing her sleeping draught.

She longed for him. His words, his kindness, his touch, his love… Merlin, she was forced to realize, was the only one who had ever accepted her and loved her for who she was. And it was starting to become clearer and clearer that Merlin was the only one Morgana could ever love. She had a title, a name, and a fortune – the only thing she could truly appreciate was kindness and love, two things which only Merlin had been able to give her.

She had thought she could get over him. That Arthur's love would be the ointment needed to heal the pain of Merlin's absence. But the wound she had inflicted upon both of them refused to heal, stubbornly festering until it became unbearable to live with it – and without each other.

Morgana sniffled. She blinked hard, and suddenly realized that she had been so immersed in her thoughts that she hadn't realized tears had formed in her eyes. When Merlin turned towards her, she tried to wipe them away and with a smile she said, "Allergies."

"I know you're not allergic to anything, Morgana," Merlin said, an eyebrow raised.

Morgana didn't want to imagine how pathetic she must have seen in that moment. She burst out laughing – a cold, rueful laugh. "Ignore me, Merlin," she said coolly, "Just make the damn thing and I'll be out of here in less than a minute!" She snapped, unable to take Merlin's pitying glance.

Merlin nodded wordlessly and resumed his task. His face was expressionless, but Morgana knew him well enough to be able to discern what he was thinking.

"You must be enjoying this right now," she went on, unable to take the deafening silence any longer, in which she heard her own disparaging thoughts all too well, "Seeing the woman you rejected come to you in the middle of the night, weeping."

"I don't enjoy it," Merlin said after a momentary pause, "I pity you. If I may say so, Your Highness."

"Oh, don't call me that!" Morgana said, losing all filter, all self-control. She was tired of this game. Despite what their stations dictated, whether or not she was married, whatever her parents' last, dying wish had been, she still loved him. As long as she didn't act out on those feelings, however, she supposed she had the right to have them. "To you, I will always just be Morgana. You don't have to use my title when we're alone."

"As you wish," Merlin said dutifully, but his voice was laced with the mildest of irritations.

Morgana sighed loudly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I love you, Merlin," the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. The feeling she had tried to reign in ever since her engagement to Arthur finally broke free. After the words had slipped out of her mouth, she decided it was too late to turn back. She burst out laughing, a horrible, self-pitying sound. "I do," she said. "I can't help it. I see you every day and I'm reminded of what I can't have. It's hell."

"You pushed me away," Merlin reminded her, unable to hold back his own feelings, chopping up a toad's leg particularly viciously. "You did this to yourself."

"I know!" Morgana snapped, irritated by his lack of compassion. "But what do you think I should have done?"

"I don't know, maybe refused him?" Merlin said, his voice heavily dripping with venom.

"I could have," Morgana conceded, "But put yourself in my shoes for a second. Your father trains you from your childhood for this role. You're the princess of Cornwall, and your nation adores you. You're more than qualified. You're going to be the greatest queen of Cornwall, as all the seers say. For all its difficulties, you have a privileged life and you make the best of it. You can't wait to be Queen. And then suddenly, your home, your castle, is penetrated by thousands of Saxon soldiers. Your father's most trusted friend, his brother and councilor, turns out to have betrayed your entire family, sold you out to the Saxon armies you were already at war at with to claim your father's throne. You lose your family, your title, and all that you've ever held dear in one fell swoop. Your life is never the same –"

Merlin's eyes filled with tears. "Enough!" he snapped. "I get it, OK? I don't need to hear it."

"If it makes you so uncomfortable just hearing about it, how do you think it feels like having to live with this every day?"

Merlin swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he ground out at last. "I'm sorry for being selfish enough to want you to give up everything and run away with me. I'm sorry. But goddamnit, I just don't see the point of all this!"

Morgana gasped. She had never heard him swear before. "I just don't," he said, shaking his head, lowering his voice, "we're all going to die anyway. And all that will matter at the end is how happy you were. Are you happy right now? Is this what you've wanted?"

Morgana shook her head, wishing that somehow, she could make him understand what it was like to be her. "But you don't get it – heirs to the Crown cannot –"

"Yes, that's right, they can't," Merlin interrupted snappishly. "But you're not Crown Princess. You're not an heir to anything. You're just Queen Consort."

Morgana lost all patience. "I love how you think you have the moral high ground here," she snapped, "but you're asking me to betray my parents' memory by running away with you. My parents were a part of my life for 15 years and you've been a part of it for 8 months. Think about that.

Maybe you don't understand what it's like losing everything because you never had much to begin with."

Merlin was brimming with rage but he refused to say anything.

Morgana was about to leave when Merlin announced, "I know you only married Arthur because you hope he'll wage war against the Saxons. Even if you don't get your crown back, at least you'll be part of the efforts to defeat them. Is this the life you wanted? Three months into your marriage and you're already –"

"I've come," she said furiously, "for sleeping draught. It's not your job as my husband's servant to philosophize about our relationship, but it is to do my bidding. I won't sit around listening to this drivel any longer. Remember your station when talking to me, Merlin. I want that sleeping draught on my desk tomorrow the first thing in the morning."

Merlin and Morgana stared at each other for the longest time.

"I'm sorry," she breathed out at last, looking away. "I'm so sorry…"

"So am I," he said, rushing over to her, seeing that she was about to break down. "So am I. I am so sorry. I have no idea what it's like to live through that. It's not my place to judge."

She allowed herself to be drawn into his arms, and she sobbed into his chest.

"No – you were just saying your opinion – I'm sorry – I never wanted to hurt you –" she mumbled, barely intelligible, her body trembling furiously.

Merlin gently turned her face towards his. "It's alright," he said. "It doesn't matter now. I forgive you."

He would never want to be her, and that was compensation enough for whatever she had done to him.

"No, I – I was horrible – I –" she stopped herself mid-sentence and broke away from him to recompose herself. In his arms, it was simply too easy to fall apart. "C-can you – bring up the draught to my chambers?" she asked. If she stayed any longer, she knew she would only do something that she would regret. "I – I feel really sleepy – I need to – need to get back to bed –"

Merlin nodded. The darkening of his eyes suggested to Morgana that he understood what her departure was truly about.

"Goodnight," Merlin said.

Morgana nodded. "Goodnight," she said, regretting each step he took away from her, out of his chambers and back to her own.


	9. The Argument

_Chapter Nine_

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 **M** organa's heart was still beating after ascending the stairs back to the West Wing where here chambers lay, her only companion her resounding footsteps in the torch-lit hallways. Her previous encounter with Merlin kept replaying in her mind. She could no longer lie to herself – though it wasn't as though her previous attempts at fooling herself had been all that successful, either. Presently, she allowed her feelings for the servant boy to wash over her, revitalizing her entire body and making her feel reborn – she felt better than she remembered feeling in a long time. With honesty came peace and relief.

The silly smile on her face only faded as she neared her chambers and a bad premonition suddenly, inexplicably washed over her. Someone was in her room, she knew, she felt it in her bones. Though whether the visitor was unwelcome or the encounter was going to be highly painful, she did not yet know. Her senses weren't that sharply tuned.

When she asked the guards stationed in front of her chambers, the two men simply shook their heads, insisting in utter unison that they hadn't seen a soul, then exchanging derisive glances when they thought she wasn't looking.

She then put her hand on the knob, and could suddenly discern – from what, she didn't know, she never did when these feelings washed over her – that it was the right step to take. But she never relied solely on emotions to make decisions. She had many a time had a bad premonition regarding certain issues, and more often than not, her seemingly illogical and paranoid feelings turned out to have been right. For safety's sake, she ordered the guards to shadow her.

What she found inside, however, was nothing like she had expected.

When she entered her chambers, an intruder there she did find: a tall, handsome intruder, with his back hunched – the symbol of defeat –, his face forlorn, twirling a lone, sad rose in his hands, careful to avoid the thorns. For a fleeting moment Morgana had the impression that she was the rose, but she quickly dismissed the thought, as the notion struck her silly.

The guards were just as surprised as her to find the sun of the mighty Uther waiting for his Queen with a token of truce. They were instantly reminded of the age-old adage that no matter how high a rank a man attains, his wife will always be your wife, and to reconcile one will always have to humble themselves. In that moment, they were reminded of themselves in their most vulnerable moments – when they knew they had done wrong and were bearing their weaknesses by coming to seek forgiveness. Somehow, they had thought that Kings were above such things given their station. But apparently relationships were much the same no matter the social milieu one came from.

Morgana dismissed them with a wave of the hand.

"My King," she said softly, full of reverence, as the guards shut the doors behind her, closing out the light of the torches penetrating the room from the hallway, and letting the rays of the moon illuminate her face.

Arthur finally lifted his head and his eyes met her own.

Morgana was clutching the fabric of cloth that covered her heart which had started to beat even more erratically than before, when she had left Merlin's chambers and was still consumed by thoughts of him. Suddenly, she could barely recall the servant boy, or if she had ever had any feelings for him.

She was moved despite everything, despite herself, despite all that she felt or thought she felt. She was moved especially by his humility, to have swallowed his pride to make right with his beloved. The rose, she thought, was also a nice gesture. How on earth, though, did he manage to acquire flowers at this time of night? Servants, she thought to herself ruefully, could apparently never catch a break.

For the briefest moment, Arthur's expression mirrored everything she felt, but the expression of joy and relief and love flitted through his face faster than the last breath of a candle died out.

"Morgana," he replied noncommittally, his voice hoarse and low, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. His blue eyes – normally so vivid and joyful – were devoid of any warmth.

Her heart skipped a beat. She didn't understand what was happening. But Arthur quickly got to the chase.

"Where were you?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with hurt. Morgana's chest constricted at the sight of him – she wished she could approach him, envelop him in her arms, and hug his head to her chest to make all his worst fears disappear. To let him hear her heart, beating for him, and just for him in that moment, so that he might believe his ears, even if he didn't trust to see clearly with his eyes anymore. "I've been waiting for you for half an hour." He said, his tone piercing, accusatory.

"I-I was down in Gaius's chambers," she stammered, looking like a deer in the headlights, completely taken aback by the question. Her eyes twinkled with fear. "I w-went to get sleeping draught,"

"So? Where is it?" Arthur asked, pinning the stem rose in his hand particularly hard, almost viciously, although still exercising great care to avoid the thorns. Morgana suddenly felt throttled at the same time as the rose was being man-handled. She knew where this was going, and she feared she might not have a way to prevent Arthur from arriving to the worst of conclusions.

"I – It took too long to make, so I eventually left," she replied.

Arthur nodded, but his face was pained and his eyes full of disbelief. She once again wished to simply go up to him and hug his head to her heart, so he could hear it beating for him, so he might believe his ears if not his eyes.

"Uh-huh," Arthur replied, his voice dripping with disbelief. What she hated most of all was the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. She had never wanted to make him feel that way!

"Arthur," she said softly, trying to take a step closer to him, to close the distance between them, but he straightened up and tensed so much Morgana stopped short. His apparent revulsion felt like a slap in the face. "Arthur, what are you thinking?" she asked, her chest constricting.

The accusations pained her more than a thousand arrows. It was all she could do to stop tears from forming in her eyes. She was afraid such a show of emotion would be tantamount to an admission of guilt in his eyes, temporarily clouded by jealousy and insecurity, two emotions which he had always felt in relation to her for as long as they had known each other. It seemed like they weren't going to go away anytime soon, and were currently poisoning their relationship in its purest of state – the beginning.

"Well, what the hell do you think I'm thinking?" he snapped angrily. Then he looked away, shaking his head, and his eyes glistened with something that looked like tears. They were both fighting the emotions they had grown up believing – due to their fathers' teachings – were wrong, and made them weak. "I have an argument with my wife, then after thinking it through I climb up to her chambers to surprise her with a rose as a token of reconciliation, only to find her gone! What did you need in the middle of the night!? What could you possibly need!?"

 _I have given you everything_ – the unsaid words lingered in the air, were apparent in his expression and in every movement he made. The unspoken accusation of her lack of gratitude poisoned the atmosphere of the room.

"Sleeping draught," Morgana replied, no longer able to contain her anger. "I told you!"

"Well, what for?"

"What do people usually need sleeping draught for, Arthur? I was having nightmares! Have been for quite some time now. Gaius and Merlin didn't have any on stock, though, and it took ages to make so I left! I'm sorry, Arthur, but we had a fight, I had another nightmare, and I just couldn't –"

"What's this story about nightmares, Morgana!?" Arthur demanded. "You never told me about any nightmares."

"I didn't want to burden you!" It was the truth, but Morgana was painfully aware of how much it sounded like a lie right now. Then she switched to an offensive stance, recognizing that kind words weren't going to get her anywhere this time; she had to stand up for herself. "Come on, Arthur," she said scornfully, snorting, "You can't possibly think I'd cheat on you with either Gaius or Merlin! One's an old man and the other's a bloody servant. Honestly, do you think I have no taste?" How silly that a lie sounded much more believable than the truth.

She could see Arthur was convinced that she would never stoop 'low' enough to entertain the thought of a servant as a romantic interest. However, Arthur stubbornly clung to the possibility of her infidelity.

"All I know," he said, standing up and throwing the rose on her bed, "is that you say went to the other end of the Castle for sleeping draught, came back with none, but were gone from bed when I got here and didn't return for a good half of an hour. For all I know, you could have been in bed with one of the knights. Or anyone, really."

"Honestly, Arthur, you're being overdramatic –" Morgana couldn't believe what she was hearing. A knight!? Yes, clearly, another noble was just what she needed after a string of failed romances with them, she thought with a mental eye roll.

"Don't tell me," he yelled, turning back to her, spit flowing from his mouth, eyes bloodshot with either anger or the effort not to cry, or both, "what to think! I'm tired of you and Father constantly telling me what to say and think and do. This is what _I_ think. Don't like it, don't act like this again."

"Arthur," Morgana said, stepping closer to him, unafraid and angry, "Do you hear yourself? You're ridiculous."

As though convinced by her cool collectedness, Arthur began to doubt himself. He looked like a mess, his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, his forehead glistening with beads of sweat.

"Stay with me, Arthur," Morgana said, naked in her vulnerability. "Please. I need you." Her eyes implored him to remain by her side. But he refused to believe a second of it.

"Like hell you do!" Arthur snapped. "I don't believe you."

"I can see that," Morgana replied, trying not to let anger get the better of her. She wanted to hurt him as much as he was hurting her, with his accusations and yelling, but knew she would only ever get anywhere if she got him to calm down. "What the hell have I done to deserve such mistrust?"

"You haven't done anything," he said, "And that's the problem. I still don't believe you love me. You probably still had a lover when you accepted my proposal." The accusation came so out of the blue that suddenly Morgana couldn't conceal her shock. Arthur snorted derisively, shaking his head as he looked away, the tears much more discernible in his eyes this time.

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur!" Morgana snapped, losing all remnants of patience. "Ever since I have been your wife, all I've done was further your glory! I came up with the plan to announce your engagement after winning the melee, I planned the wedding, I –"

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP TO RULE!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, but it was difficult to tell whom he was trying to convince.

Appalled, Morgana took a step back. He sounded like a roaring lion. But lions were nothing without lionesses.

"Clearly, as you have so kindly pointed out to me yesterday," she said, her eyes narrowing to slits, her voice like venom, "neither your father nor I think so."

Arthur seemed like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. After spluttering for a moment or so, he said, in an attempt to return the emotional blow, "You know what, Agravaine was right about you. I didn't want to listen to him at first, because I loved you. But now I can clearly tell that you're not trustworthy!"

" _I'm_ not trustworthy!?" Morgana interjected, appalled, but Arthur proceeded, ignoring her protests altogether.

"You only married me for my title, didn't you? You only married me for the possibility of reclaiming your own throne, or God knows why it is you do the things you did, but if there weren't something in it for you, you wouldn't –"

"I MARRIED YOU," she screamed, "BECAUSE YOUR FATHER BEGGED ME TO! Begged me, telling me you still had feelings for me, you still loved me, and because he thought you weren't a good fit for the throne! Admit it, Arthur – just look at the way you're acting now, so irrational, so emotional –"

"SHUT UP!" He screamed. He was besides himself with anger, though it seemed as though it was really anger towards himself; as though he were only projecting it onto her to feel better about himself. Morgana pitied and loved him and hated him at the same time. All she wanted to do, despite everything, was go up to him and make all his fears disappear. Take away the pain and make him whole again. To let him know, let him feel, just how much she loved him, without pride or self-interest.

His heart of gold, for which she had thought him a fool in their youth, was what had in their adulthood won her over. She was no longer solely interested in glory and material possessions – for in time, she had realized the greatest fortune of all was to love and be loved in return. Without complexities or pride. And Arthur, despite the act he put on to guard his fragile heart, was perhaps the most honest person Morgana had ever met.

After all she had been through, after all the rotten but successful men she had met, this quality was the only one which could ever win her over again.

"I'm not going to listen to you again," he said, but he still stood there, waiting to hear her response.

"Who's poisoning your mind, Arthur? Who the hell is telling you these things?"

"Is it really that hard to believe that I have thoughts independent of what others tell me? All Agravaine – who I know you're blaming for all this now – is strengthen me in my preexisting revolves. I had doubts about you, about my father, and your bonne foie when guiding me through my kingship. You don't want to help _me_ rule, you want to rule through me! Both of you!"

"Cause kings rule with their minds, not their swords, or their hearts," Morgana snapped. The insinuation was clear: Arthur only ruled with the former two. "If life were only so simple as that good people lived good lives and became successful. The world doesn't work that way! You should know that by now. Because if the world worked that, my father wouldn't have reigned for as long and as successfully as he did. And neither would have your father,"

"Are we insulting each other's parents now? The way your father treated you – your entire family – especially your mother – it's an insult to insinuate he was in any way like _my_ father. He turned on his own family, for God's sake!"

Morgana took a deep breath. "I said neither were as pure of heart as you. And that is why they stayed kings. That's it. I didn't say they were the same or what my father did was – you know what, never mind. I'm done. I'm done trying to reason with you. If you still have doubts about my intentions towards you," Arthur nodded, both to confirm what she was saying and to prompt her to proceed – it felt like a stab in the back, "then you're the greatest fool I have ever met. And I'm an even greater fool than you are, for thinking that our relationship could be different this time. That you wouldn't be jealous of me and always trying to second-guess my intentions because you can't take it that somebody's better than you!" She was crying now, and so was he, realizing what he had done, what they had both done, what they had always done to each other. Their love, she thought, was a carnival of sins: of pride, of lust, of envy, of wrath, with little else in between. The moments of peace and happiness were wonderful, perhaps better than anything she had ever experienced. But were they worth so much pain? To alternate between heaven and hell constantly, was it a livable fate? Or was a life of constant, ordinary love better than this whirlwind of emotions? She knew the answer. It was obvious.

And she was married to the wrong man. So why couldn't she let him go?

She saw it in his eyes that he loved her. So ferociously, so passionately, so fiercely. But were his feelings of inadequacy more powerful than his love?

Would her thirst for vengeance overturn her fidelity towards him? After all, was a man who treated her like this deserving of her commitment and devotion to him? She still couldn't believe that this was the gratitude she received for her devotion to his kingship.

And no, she didn't think he was fit to be king. But all she had ever wanted was to help him maintain his power and further his glory, as opposed to Agravaine whose motives she wasn't so certain were pure. She had never wanted his kingdom. She had only ever wanted hers. But she was sure, even if she didn't have tangible proof that he would believe, that his uncle Agravaine was after the only thing he ever truly held dear.

How similar they were, caring about one thing only: their thrones and their countries.

They both needed someone else to love, she thought, her mind clouded by rage and bitterness and scorn. But they were already married to each other.

"I love you," Arthur said.

She knew. She loved him too.

"But that's not enough," she said. "It never was."

Compatibility and love, sadly, didn't always come hand in hand.

And because he realized he was on the verge of pushing her away for good, he apologized again. Somewhere deep down he must have known that without her she was doomed. Or perhaps he just couldn't bear the thought of having to live without her. Either way, he begged for forgiveness – all the while reminding her of her own role in their untimely demise.

When he leaned into kiss him, she kissed him back with twice the fervor. And when he put her hands on him, and searched her eyes for reciprocity of his love, for any sign of will or want concerning their union, she nodded impatiently, wanting to feel his skin on hers, to experience the raw passion of their attraction, the sensual pleasure of their love.

She wanted him, she longed for him, as he did for her, and even though they were poison for each other, their love for each other overruled their rational senses. And while he undoubtedly he thought this was love – she saw it in the way he looked at her, how he kept searching for love in her eyes only to find a veil that hid all she truly felt – but she had known many a men and knew what real love was like. Due to his lack of experience, he still thought that what they had was the be-all-end-all of romantic relationships.

And she had been the greatest fool to think they could possibly have changed enough to be compatible. But she loved him, she loved him, she loved him, and when he lay his head on her chest, and she caressed his head, she knew she could never leave him, because he needed her, and she did not have the heart to destroy the add to his sufferings, and she didn't want to hurt him further because she loved him irrevocably. She knew her betrayal would be the final drop in the proverbial cup, the last straw, the thing that finally broke him. She didn't want to do that to any man. Especially not one that loved her so, with a heart as pure as it was complex.

He fell asleep to her caressing his head.

She couldn't help but wonder – what was all his love and goodness worth without strength and self-confidence?

On the contrary, was success worth anything without love?

She had only questions, and no answers. She listened in utter silence, clearing her mind of all clutter, of all memories and desperate thoughts, waiting with bated breath for an answer from the God above.

But as always, the only response was utter silence.

She let her love be the light guiding her way.

She fell asleep hugging him, not wanting to let go.

* * *

A/N: Well, Morgana's torn. And while Arthur is being a huge manchild it's because he's always felt inferior to her, even though before her arrival he had thought himself to be the next best thing since sliced bread. He also really loves her, he just has difficulties showing his emotions but he tries. Thoughts?


	10. The Morning After

_Chapter Ten_

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 **I** t was Arthur who woke up first. When he disentangled himself from her arms, she emitted a whiny moan, but he gently shushed her, not wanting to wake her, caressing her cheeks. She turned to her side, pouting, but nodded furiously in understanding when he said he had to go in half-sleep, barely aware of her surroundings. Arthur smiled to himself fondly. He watched as her features softened into an expression of angelic serenity. He breathed a soft, gentle kiss on her forehead, careful not to disturb her peace. It only ever lasted so long.

With one last affectionate look at her sleeping form, he exited her chambers.

Morgana slept long that day. His arms had proven a better antidote than any magical concoction to her sleepless nights.

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Agravaine and Arthur ate breakfast together. The sun shone through the windows, penetrating the commodious Hall, dancing on its white halls, making of it a heaven with traces of white and red in between.

Agravine was struggling to come up with an appropriate reaction to Arthur's surprisingly jovial mood. Much of it was due to his influence, admittedly, but he hadn't seen the young King so blissfully happy so far during their stay. Perhaps not ever.

"I see you're in a good mood today, Sire," he said finally, treading carefully. He even managed a smile, as though he were happy for Arthur.

"Yes, Agravaine, I am," the King replied. "You don't have to worry about my wife anymore. There is no problem. You can rest assure of the purity of her intentions. I made sure of them myself."

Agravine opened his mouth to reply several times, but managed nothing in the end, looking like a flailing fish washed ashore.

Arthur made sure to observe his reaction. He could easily tell Agravaine wasn't as happy as he pretended. Could his uncle truly have ulterior motives in counseling him? He couldn't imagine that his deceased mother's brother would want to besmirch the memory of his late sister by manipulating her son, his _nephew_ , not only a part of his family but the only thing, so to say, that remained of Ygraine? He was the only legacy that she had left behind: not titles nor riches, just a son, and all that she had taught him about love and life.

Arthur remembered playing with Agravaine as a child, back before Ygraine's death, when his uncle had visited more often. He remembered playing with his cousins, all of whom were, in his opinion (and if his memory served him well), varying degrees of bizarre. But if he were to give credit to Agravaine's story, his children, with the exception of one, have all grown up to be modal citizens and worthy heirs to both the De Bois name and fortune.

Uther had often said that Agravaine was jealous of him, to have a son so strong, so intelligent, so battle-savvy. Complaining about Agravaine, he recalled, were almost the only times his father had ever praised him. On most other occasions, it was nothing but criticism and chastisement for mistakes, real or perceived.

Ygraine had been the good force to his bad, the positive to his negative, the yin to his yang, in their son's upbringing; while Ygraine was of the opinion that Uther was too harsh with him, Uther thought she was too lenient and turning him into a spoiled slob. They could never agree on how to best raise him and prepare him for kingship. Uther had only wanted to raise a great king; Ygraine, a great man in his own right.

Arthur internalized Ygraine's teachings about the importance of fairness and goodness, the original meanings of nobility, as she had called them, notions that had since been bastardized by unworthy men and women. On the other hand, Uther's teachings had an equally strong effect on him, though the two were quite contradictory and hard to balance; according to Uther, a man, especially one whose destiny it was to be King, had to be cold, stoic, and logical. (Even though Uther himself sometimes struggled with living up to this ideal of royalty, he deemed it best to pass it on to his son.)

As a result, Arthur became a confused mess of a child (and then later on an adult), forever balancing between love and kindness and indifference and pure self-interest, taking after his mother but desperately wanting to please his father as well, never finding the aurea mediocritas that the Medieval philosopher Horatius had so often talked about in his works.

Then add Morgana to the equation, and all hell broke loose, especially with Ygraine dead and without the love that had always been the ointment to the wounds inflicted on him by his father.

In his age, he was beginning to think that while Ygraine's teachings had been noble, they were also perhaps outdated and idealistic and unrealizable in a world ruled by greed and lust for power. In a perfect world, as Morgana had said, nobility would be sufficient to be a great king. However, in the world they lived in, things were not quite so easy and simple. They had both been, for the longest time, victims of Ygraine's unwillingness to see the world as it was and not as _she_ was. But he didn't want to besmirch his mother's memory by thinking so lowly of her teachings to him, her last remaining legacy, that, sadly, would not live on in him from this point on. He wanted to remember her as she was, noble in the best sense of the word, pure of heart and strong of mind, braver than the lion on the De Bois crest.

But with each and every day as King, his faith in the inherent goodness of mankind (which Ygraine had often used religious scripts to prove) faded more and more. He wasn't even sure, he thought, casting a sideways glance at Agravaine, if he could trust his own blood anymore. He wasn't sure he trusted Morgana either, all he knew – after last night – that she loved him in return.

"You really love her, don't you, Sire?" Agravaine suddenly asked, with a paternalistic smile on his tanned face.

With his mouth full of bacon, grinning, Arthur nodded. "Yes, I do," he said, looking at him, daring him to question the veracity of her emotions, which he had up to this point often had.

"I'm so glad then," Agravaine said. His dark eyes hid everything he might have felt, much like the night.

"Mhm," Arthur replied noncommittally, far from convinced. He took a gulp of water out of his goblet.

"Pray tell, Sire," Agravaine said. "How did she manage to convince you of her love for you?"

Arthur snorted. "You don't need to know the details of my marriage," he said. "Don't you trust me to make my own choices?"

"I do," Agravaine said immediately, seeming appalled by the mere suggestion of the contrary. "I just… She is so much like her father. And you know what Galois was like."

"She's not her father," Arthur snapped. "Just like I am not mine."

"Thankfully," Agravaine said, then turned the color of beet root when Arthur gave him a dark look. "I-I am here merely to represent Ygraine's ideas, and to have someone whom you can trust at court." He stammered in response.

"I'd trust you more if you weren't so content on ruining my marriage," he said sharply.

"I'm not – I'm just looking out –"

"Well, you don't need to," Arthur said. "I can do a good job of that myself."

Agravaine nodded. "I'm sorry, Sire."

"Apology accepted," Arthur said, but his voice told a different story. "Arrange a meeting with the military for tomorrow."

"What? But Sire, we talked about –"

"I changed my mind," Arthur said. "Or did you not hear your King?"

"I – I'll see it to it instantly – that the military is informed of your changed plans –"

"Tell them nothing," Arthur said. "Of the sort. I merely want to re-negotiate the terms of border protection. I didn't change my mind yet, and will only if we manage to come up with a mutually beneficially compromise." He abruptly set his silvery aside and wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. "Council is always welcome, Uncle. But it is I who makes the final decision. Have the Seneschal inform the military via post immediately."

Agravaine nodded. "Yes, Sire. Immediately, Sire. As you wish, Sire." He jabbered in one breath. He was dancing to a completely different tune than just a few days ago. Now, that's what I like hearing, Arthur thought.

He then had the servants clear the tables and dismissed them. In solitude, he was able to think freely and clearly. He thought about the influence he had allowed Agravaine to exert over him – though in retrospect his manipulations were clear, back at the time, he didn't recognize them as such. Perhaps 'manipulations' was not the right word, either: whether or not Agravaine had truly only wanted the best for him by advising to be wary of her, remembering the adolescent Morgana who was fortunately barely reminiscent of the woman he had married today, a young girl full of darkness, anger, hatred and pain; who was cold, calculated and stoic, the son Uther had longed for, the kind of child who would have done anything for the throne; or whether his uncle had been merely trying to exert his own will onto who he saw as a malleable man of barely twenty to achieve his own ends, Arthur remained unsure. However, one option, with his mind clear and devoid of emotion, seemed much more likely than the other. Things weren't looking up for Agravaine anymore.

But he knew that the only reason he had allowed Agravaine to have such a strong effect on him because of his own feelings of inadequacy and insecurities. There were a lot of things and people he could have blamed for his demons – and not without reason – but most of those people were already gone or had since faded into oblivion and insignificance. One cannot rectify the errors of the past, especially if the faults do not belong to one's self. All he knew was that if he wanted to create a better future for himself, he had to overcome his demons for his own sake, and alone.

He would never once let himself be led astray by seemingly wise words of his seniors. He would instead rely on his own heart and mind and eyes and ears. And Morgana had convinced him of her devotion to him.

He had seen it in Morgana's eyes, the same inexplicable hunger that had devoured him since his adolescence, a passion that had always been as frustratingly inexplicable as it was frighteningly intense. Since their youth many a year had passed, and though they were still far from perfectly chiseled diamonds that fit together just right, they were no longer the volatile mixture either, just threatening to explode if exposed to the wrong circumstances – instead, they were a casually, slowly simmering potion in the cauldron, stirred by two people who had over the years practiced on other how or how not to love, ready to lavish all they had learned on each other, concocting the perfect recipe for love.

But Morgana's actions exceeded that limit. She had, through action, proven her loyalty to him over and over again. He was painfully aware of the unquenchable desire for recognition and glory that Morgana burned with, for the very same flames had been burning him since he first became aware of his role in life. However, Morgana had sacrificed all her ambitions and seemed perfectly content playing second fiddle to his reign, even if she was accountable for much of its success. She was the perfect Queen Consort on the outside – she had become, for his sake as much as for hers, the epitome of the type of woman she hated. That must have been an immense sacrifice for a girl as ambitious as her.

However, the things that made her such an asset to his reign were the very things that stirred doubt in his heart toward her. She was willing to sacrifice anything and everything for the mere hope of reclaiming her own throne: would she be willing to sacrifice him as well?

At least one thing had become abundantly clear: he was unfit to be King.

That is, unless he changed.

And he could have been mad at Morgana and Uther and Agravaine for treating him as a puppet on a string, but truly, what else had he been? They were right: he hadn't been ready for the throne when he got it.

But it was long time he re-invented himself, to re-shape himself into someone worthy of the Pendragon name, who wouldn't, through his rule, nullify and besmirch everything his parents had stood for.

It was time, he thought, to truly become King.

* * *

A/N: Hey! Thanks for all the people who review, and if you hadn't done yet, please do so! Completely open to any type of feedback, really, as long as it's civil.

I am sorry if there were too many passages on the innermost thoughts of Arthur. I just felt it was important to give a little insight into his thoughts other than what Morgana and the other characters perceived, because he's the King after all. I'm trying to go into the more er, royal obligations and obstacles that come with being King, not just the romance, though that will obviously play a huge role in the story as well. Which are you more interested in?

What do you think of Agravaine? Do you think he's well-meaning but misguided, or do you think he's playing Arthur?

And I'm so curious - what do you think my version of Mergana / Armor (clearly not much like the show, eh) and which do you prefer?

Thank you so much in advance for your feedback.

P.S.: I'm using the last few days before exam period to shower you with updates! Yay!


	11. The Revelation

_Chapter Eleven_

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 **A** gravaine's plans were halted by Arthur's sudden declaration of independence – from everyone and everything.

He highly doubted that the kid could persevere on his own. He had never been anything more than a spoiled sot born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had always told his own children that the only difficulty people like Arthur had ever had was being born.

He saw Uther, the man he so hated, every time he looked at his nephew. Fortunately for him, he had inherited the De Bois family's good looks, but if today was any indication, he was more Uther's son than Ygraine's. Pity. Ygraine was the only positive influence that cursed kid had ever had. Uther had raised him to be a perfect little clone of him, but he had failed: Arthur was too frail of heart to stomach the hardships that came with kingship. Agravaine couldn't wait to see him fail royally. But the kid had to fail on _his_ terms, so he could take his throne.

He had tried to separate him from the protective influence of Morgana. Morgana, he respected, despite everything he had said about her to Arthur; Morgana was strong. Morgana was intelligent, cunning, resourceful, ruthless. Morgana was proud of who she was. She did not try to pretend to be anything else other than what she was. At least, she used to be. He was sad to see that she had softened up with the years. Yet one less person he could respect. It was such a loss – even though she had been just a child, she had been intimidating.

Morgana had always so resembled Galois, the fearless, ruthless tyrant who had, paradoxically, brought peace to Cornwall and would have defeated the Saxons as well if his own brother hadn't betrayed him. While he didn't feel sorry for Galois's death and knew this was the end he deserved for his sins, his cursed family and his people didn't deserve the Saxon overrule. And it was such, such a pity to see a great king go. There were so few of them left. Even if he had been a sorry excuse for a human being in his life. But Agravaine wasn't surprised by that. Good and great people were seldom the same people.

Morgana had the same raven hair, cold, green eyes that served as a veil of her true emotions, that cocky smile, that effortless excellence, as Galois. And oh, how deceitful she was. She was so, so deceitful. She would turn the knife in Arthur's back every time, and he in hers, competing for Uther's approval. But to Uther, she was a fairy princess. And to everyone who didn't know her, she was so, so charming. But he and Ygraine and their brother Tristan had met Galois when they were younger, and in her recognized everything that Galois had been at that same age. She would, if given the chance, grow up to be the same fearless, ruthless ruler that awed and frightened her nation.

It was such a pity blood had come into the question. It was such a pity Arthur had to be the one to inherit the kingdom, a kid whose sole accomplishment was being born into the right place, and his sole talent torturing servants. Agravaine's children had hated him, though they had tried their best to get along with the King's son. Oh, how glad he was not to have to have them play pretend anymore. They had grown up to successful, respectable citizens… and Arthur a fool who thought he could rule, a self-aware marionette who was desperately trying to break free from the chains his own inadequacy imposed on him.

Arthur could shed his skin a thousand times and yet it still wouldn't be enough to become someone worthy of the throne.

Agravaine had to intervene, really, it was his duty to Camelot.

And yes, he could have just stepped aside and let Morgana guide him to rule – for it was obvious to him that it was Uther's dying wish that they wed that they both completed out of gratitude for the man as opposed to certain love for each other. And Uther's intention were quite clear: even with half a leg in the grave, he still disrespected his son, his last act as King Father showcasing to the world how unsuccessful he had been as a father.

If only Arthur had followed Ygraine's teachings… he might have at least become a good man. As he was, he was just a manageable fool, a self-aware puppet who had decided to rebel. He had to find a new way, and had to find one fast, to get Arthur name him his heir, his direct descendant, to close out Morgana.

And yes, he could have stepped aside… but he had never been known for his benevolence, but more his ambition.

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Morgana realized the sleeping draught was as good of an excuse as any to make another visit to Merlin's chambers. Her request would shock Merlin more than if she had come to rekindle their old liaison, their still burning flame, that was currently, slowly dying out, untended to, constantly stifled by the torrents of pain their separation had caused.

But Morgana had bigger fish to fry than love affairs. Love affairs were for princesses, or peasants, or anyone who didn't have the fate of a kingdom weighing down her shoulders. Merlin was such a nuisance, from a certain point of view, constantly tempting her, but if she gave in, they would both end up decapitated, she knew, or rotting away in the dungeons forever. The price of infidelity was extremely high in the Kingdom of Camelot. Cornwall had been an altogether different story before the invasion of the religious fanatic Saxons. "If we all lived by the laws of the pope, most of our court would be imprisoned," she had joked. And while Camelot was very lenient, infidelity was still considered treason. Morgana would have more than anything loved to wallow in vice in that faraway land, the land of true fairytales, where she could love the man she truly loved without repercussions.

"Merlin isn't here," Gaius had said after she had entered and casually taken a seat at his table.

"I'll wait," Morgana replied. "Ooh, apples. Can I have some?"

Gaius looked scandalized by her attitude. He cleared his throat. "Uh – your Majesty – if I may say one thing…" he said, giving her a slight bow. Morgana cocked an eyebrow with mild interest.

Gaius had always been more afraid of Morgana than Arthur. Arthur was friendly and open with him, potentially because Gaius was a sort of substitute for the fatherly love he had never gotten.

"Sure, go ahead," Morgana replied.

Gaius cleared his throat again and fidgeted nervously. "I – I don't know what is currently happening between you and Merlin. I know what happened in the past –"

Morgana's eyes widened to twice their size. "Who else knows?" she interrupted.

"I – I am the only one, Majesty," he said. Morgana searched his eyes, and then relaxed when she found there nothing suspect. "And I intend to tell no one." He added, solely to reassure.

"Thank you for your service to the Crown, Gaius," Morgana said. "I can assure you that whatever had happened between Merlin and I in the past is over. If any knowledge of it got out it would jeopardize Arthur's reign. You know as well as I what Uther's intentions had been to place me as his wife."

Gaius nodded, though he begged to disagree with both Morgana and Uther. In that boy there was something purer than the entire Court altogether, something that had to be salvaged and saved, something so precious that could shatter at the slightest wrong word or touch, something he intended to preserve for the good of Camelot. The country had had enough severe, self-serving kings. The country finally needed a good one. Someone who could unite the last of Britain against the Saxons. Someone who would be respected, who would earn authority not by force but by the consensus of those below him.

In Morgana he didn't simply didn't see this potential. She would be a great Queen, perhaps, in her own land that would need harshness and order, if she ever got the throne, after the Saxon rule was overturned. But she was not the kind of ruler Camelot needed, and that was where Uther was terribly wrong.

"In fact, the reason I have come to your chambers is to seek help," Morgana said. "And Merlin's devotion the Crown has been proven time and time again. And I fear it has come under menace, by a force much sinister than our overt enemies. Someone who pretends to be our friend. Arthur's uncle, Agravaine."

"The King would never believe that," Gaius said, though he had his own doubts about Agravaine.

"I'm aware, Gaius," Morgana said. "I have tried taking the matter to the king but he is blind to his own blood's faults. Now you understand why I need to use the utmost discretion."

"What are you planning to do?"

"I'm sorry, Gaius," Morgana said. "But it's best if the least amount of people know."

"I could help," Gaius said.

"I'm sorry, Gaius," Morgana said. "I want to be discreet."

Gaius knew she just didn't want to include him. He nodded, and started walking away when he abruptly stopped and turned back to her, "Queen Morgana. If I may. I've known you since your childhood. If you may permit a simple advice from an old man…"

"Go ahead, Gaius," Morgana said.

"Don't play around with his heart," he said. "You're going to break his, yours, and Arthur's. And you're going to end up with your head on a stake, and so will Merlin. Is that the fate you truly want for you three?"

"As hard as you might find that to believe, Gaius," Morgana snapped. "I don't plan on cheating on Arthur with Merlin. In fact, what I am doing right now – and have been doing since our engagement – was to try and help him rule."

"I know, Majesty, I'm sorry," Gaius said. "But I see how Merlin looks at you. The others might think he is just a fool longing for something he may never have but he told me your history. Never when you two were together, he kept his word to you." He added immediately when he saw Morgana's jaw clench and her eyes harden. "He's going to think you still love him." Morgana tried not to show that she still did. It would have felt like an act of infidelity against Arthur. "And he's going to keep hoping… maybe even asking, begging… and sooner or later, because you still love him, you're going to give in. And then you're going to break the hearts of everyone left for you to care about."

Morgana's jaw clenched and her palms fisted. "I think that's enough," she snapped. "I didn't come here for your advice. I was gracious enough to listen to it because I thought an old man might as well be wise. I was mistaken. Tell Merlin to stay awake past midnight. That's when I'll be meeting him. Don't try to stop it. And you needn't worry. Everything I do is for the Crown, not against it. Rest assured. I would never hurt Arthur."

"Yes, Majesty. Excuse me, Majesty."

While people were usually awed with her, Gaius struggled to see why. Morgana was cruel and vindictive and selfish. She had changed considerably, admittedly, but Gaius knew her destiny. It was all he could do try and stop it from manifesting.

Morgana Pendragon, though she was destined to become the greatest ruler of Cornwall if the seers of such a faraway land could even be trusted, his own connections foretold a much more foreboding tale: while she might revive her lost kingdom from its ashes, she would also be the one to burn down Arthur's Camelot, if allowed. Lady Vivian's prophecies had never proven false before. In fact, after the day's events, he would make sure to visit her to seek her advice. Trouble was brewing and he didn't know how to stop it.

"If you may permit me to say one more thing," Gaius said, calling after her as she neared the door.

"Spare me your advice this time, Gaius," Morgana called back, and without another word, she was out of his chambers.

Ah, Galois's temper – and Uther's too, for that matter. What bad news for the kingdom that such a woman was the one behind the King's decisions. While he had to admit she had improved considerably, to the point of unrecognition, in fact, he believed Lady Vivian's prophecies than his own eyes. Lady Vivian was a much more powerful sorceress than he could ever hope to be.

All he had wanted to say, he thought sadly, hoping he could somehow make her see his point, make her understand, that just because someone has once betrayed you, didn't mean all will; just because her own uncle had proven to be a vermin, didn't necessarily mean Agravaine was; and even if she didn't trust Agravaine, he, Gaius, didn't merit this sort of mistreatment, he thought.

That she didn't broke his heart every time.

 _Catherine's daughter_ , he thought miserably, retiring to his chambers, exhausted, temporarily removing the letters she had sent him during her time as Queen Consort besides the deplorable Gorlois Le Fey. As he scanned absent-mindedly the letters, several sentences still stood out to him. _I'm so lost, Gaius – help me, Gaius, I implore you – I do not know what to do – the young Morgana, the one that Gorlois is so fond of – I am afraid she might be your daughter, Gaius. I am so sorry._

My daughter, Gaius thought, still unable to wrap his mind around it.

 _We sent her away with her big sister Morgause because we're afraid of a siege. If they arrives to Camelot, please, even if Uther is reluctant (for any reason – I have been disappointed so often these past months I have lost faith in everyone, I am even wary of our own friends), convince her to let her and her sister stay. If they live, hope lives on. If they survive, the Le Fey dynasty might still have a chance._

 _I have fought so long and hard, endured all Gorlois's abuse, so that our family – the Aldaine family, who had been forcibly removed once, be back on the throne, where we rightfully belong. This was the only way I could achieve this. I still have no idea where my eldest son is, and I miss him dearly. But he had abandoned this family and have no hope of him ever becoming king, even if he was ever presented the chance. But Morgana and Morgause – though they might never admit it, they both want the throne so dearly, and both are so fit for it, no matter whom Gorlois favors._

 _Please, protect them both at all costs. If I die, I will leave behind nothing but the two daughters I have raised. If they die and don't become Queens, I will have lived for nothing._

Gaius was torn as he slightly crumped the letter in anger. Oh, Catherine! Why have you left me with such a hard task to bear? Your daughter – our daughter – loathes me and trusts no one except for herself. She accepts nothing from me, no advice, no benevolence, and is only content if I leave her alone.

And to know that she will be downfall of Camelot… "by betrayal", as Lady Vivian had said.

To whom should he fulfill his obligation? Catherine was the love of his life – no one would ever come close. Lady Vivian, however, was the strongest sorceress in Camelot, who had warned him against trusting Morgana.

To answer the call of the past or that the future?

The choice seemed obvious.

 _When push comes to shove, he thought, I will kill my own daughter if I must, if she threatens Arthur's future from manifesting_. _He is be the salvation of the Kingdom – and she its doom._

I'm sorry, Catherine. I'm sorry, Morgana.

 _Forgive me, God._

 _For I will kill, even if my own daughter if I have to, to save the kingdom from destruction, the isle from domination, and our culture – both Camelotion and wizard – from erasure._

But neither the grace of God, whether real or imagined, assuaged his conscience.


	12. The Dream

_Chapter Twelve_

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 **M** organa was standing in the Astronomy Tower, looking up at the stars, waiting for that feeling to come, that feeling of being small and insignificant in a vast universe. And as she did, she slowly felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. She wished she could bottle this feeling and drink it up whenever she felt like her mission in life was getting too hard to bear.

She closed her eyes and imagined a faraway place, in which she could be reunited with her mother… her sister and the brother who had run away… he was the only one out of them to have done the sensible thing… all and everybody else was caught up in the thirst for power, for ambition, the fight for the throne… everyone, except her, was dead. She owed it to them to continue, though sometimes she wished she could quit her charade of a marriage and be with Merlin, even if she could fade his love for her fade with each day. It was just one of those things she felt it in her bones. Eventually, it would all be gone, and heaven would be nothing but a memory, an opportunity she had failed to take.

"Milady," Merlin said, abruptly snapping her out of her somber reverie after climbing up to the Astronomy Tower.

Morgana slid off the hoodie of her cloak, revealing her face, her pale white face illuminated by the moonlight.

Merlin swallowed hard. She looked like the epitome of innocence, with those sparkling green eyes, long, thin nose, and pouty, luscious pink lips. _No_ , he told himself, though not as firmly as he would have liked. This had to come to an end. In this game of hearts, he would certainly lose. He strengthened himself against the onslaught of emotions. Then he looked at her as coldly as he could manage, which was not too cold.

"Merlin," she said breathily, green eyes sparkling, "You're finally here."

"Yes," Merlin replied, finding it hard to look at her, knowing the emotions he had worked so long on suppressing would resurface tenfold stronger if he did. "What do you need me for, Majesty?"

"Merlin, please," Morgana said, her eyes begging him, "Such formalities are not necessary."

"Gaius told me," he went on, finding it all the harder to meet her eye, "That you needed me on official business. So I have come on official business."

"Fine, then," Morgana ceded after a moment's contemplation, her voice firm and her nostrils flaring. "How far would you be willing to go for your kingdom, Merlin?" she asked, her tone suddenly considerably more complacent.

Merlin was taken aback. "I – I would do anything to keep it safe, Majesty,"

"Alright," Morgana said. "I fear the future of the kingdom is jeopardy. A wolf in sheep's clothing walks among us." She turned to him and looked him straight in the eyes. "I fear Arthur's beloved uncle didn't come here with the best of intentions."

"You speak treason, Morgana," Merlin said, aghast, fearing what she was about to ask him to do.

"I speak the truth," she replied with a hint of anger in her voice, "And if everyone else is blind to it or too afraid to speak it, I will. And you are the only one I can trust to do this mission. You're the only trustworthy person I know in the castle." She said, taking a step closer to him.

Merlin felt bothered, and started slowly, barely noticeably, edging backwards.

"Please, Merlin," she said. "If Agravaine has his way, I will be removed from Arthur's court – or at least, my influence will be nullified. And I fear Arthur, left to his own devices, is a crisis, and would make a mess out of Camelot. I am sorry, but that is what I believe. If you disagree –"

"No, no," Merlin said, having noticed Arthur's recently increasingly peculiar behavior. "I – I – Alright." He said, though when the words left his lips he realized he didn't mean it, and he was more worried and scared than brave and complicit. "H-how do you imagine this?"

"You have magic," Morgana said. "You have power most people cannot even imagine. I know you're an extremely powerful magician. I only know a fraction of your power, that which you have shown me. I do not know the full extent of your magic. I have ideas – like shadowing him, like –"

"I will do it," Merlin said with much more conviction this time, seeing her distress. If she – the only positive, benevolent force at Court – were removed, it would be to the detriment of all Camelotians. And while she had often seemed to him paranoid, he had his doubts about Agravaine as well. He seemed too ambitious to be trusted, and his influence too strong on Arthur to be dismissed. Morgana's face relaxed somewhat, but Merlin was under the impression that she thought he had agreed too quickly, that things had gone too smoothly to be true. "I – I will figure something out."

"I need to know where he is going," Morgana said, "what he is doing, and with whom. If you could listen in on his conversations… that would be best. If he does anything shady – I beg of you, bring proof so I can eliminate this menace as soon as possible."

Merlin nodded dutifully. In his eyes, she saw nothing but sincerity, and suddenly all her fears were assuaged.

"Thank you, Merlin," she said, her heart melting. "I don't know how we should go about meeting in the future. This is too risky, but it had to be done once. Hmm…"

"I could send you letters every day," he said. "And you to me."

Morgana wrinkled her nose in incomprehension.

"Gaius could deliver these messages," Morgana's lips twitched in disapproval, "or I could enchant a servant to do my bidding."

"Can you do that?"

"I could try,"

"Yes, please do," Morgana said. "I much prefer that alternative."

The two stood in silence, eyes locked, and it was as though the night had suddenly become a hundred degrees hotter. Suddenly feeling disturbingly hot, Morgana took a tentative step towards him, wrecking her mind for something – _anything_ – to say to prolong their encounter…

But something was off. It was as if the flame that had flickered inside both of their chests, burning for one another, had dimmed inside Merlin to be replaced by grudging respect and the confusing fondness one has for old lovers who had wronged them before finally letting them go forever.

Morgana's mind suddenly went into overdrive, the mere possibility causing her to panic so that her heart started pounding so furiously against her ribcage that she could barely hear her thoughts over it. No… no… she could not allow this to happen. The last good thing in her life, ripped away from her by the man who seemed intent on ruining her despite all that she had done for him? Despite doing nothing but loving him and denying all her desires in an attempt to fashion him into a king to be revered in the centuries to come?

She suddenly couldn't think, and only one thing was on her mind: getting Merlin back…

If she lost him, she would lose her raison d'etre. She would lose the only good thing about her life… the feeling of powerlessness and hatred crept into her heart, soul and bones, and she suddenly felt as itchy as though a thousand bugs were crawling under her skin. The nightmares were accumulating right in front of her eyes: losing Merlin, losing her kingdom, losing everything in one swell swoop… She could not think clearly anymore, her vision was clouded and she allowed herself to be uncharacteristically driven emotionally. All she knew was that she needed to get rid of the feeling immediately, before it devoured her alive…

She tried to contain herself just long enough to seduce him.

"Can you keep a secret, Merlin?" Morgana suddenly asked, breaking the ear-piercing silence that lingered on the Astronomy Tower. Her eyes betrayed nothing of the frenzy driving her insane.

"Y-yes, Milady," Merlin said. Morgana ignored the formal address.

"Then… I trust you'll be keep another one as well…?" Morgana said, slowly closing the space between them. Merlin fidgeted uncomfortably at first and swallowed hard with the effort it took not to reciprocate. Morgana noticed her and burst into a wide grin when he bit his lip absently, devouring her with her eyes… when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, he was the one who grabbed her by the waist to pull her closer and unleash upon her all the emotion he had been forced to withheld during the past few months.

All the anger, hatred, love transformed into unparalleled passion, a kind of hunger that Morgana had never known from the sweet servant boy… he raised her abruptly, groping every inch of her body as though he was a traveler in the desert and she an oasis, and pushed her against the wall and slid a determined hand under her dress… she moaned absently, imagining the pleasures she was about to experience…

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Morgana abrutply awoke with a jolt, panting and drenched in sweat. The church outside struck quarter to twelve outside. She slowly calmed down, reeling with guilt, trying to suppress the pleasure the mere dream of being with Merlin again gave her. Her stomach churned with disgust at her own comportment as she looked at her husband's serene, sleeping form, as she tried to process the fact that dream or not, she had immensely enjoyed making love to her old lover, despite the months that have passed since their abrupt seperation.


	13. The Midnight Hour

_Chapter Thirteen_

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 **A** s Morgana got up from the bed, Arthur began to stir, absently moaning her name and reaching for her hand in half-sleep. It would have been heart-warming if it didn't come at such an inopportune moment. Hating herself for being so cold, she disentangled herself from Arthur, who was increasingly reluctant to let go. She massaged her wrist, nose wrinkled in pain, after finally managing to tear her hand out of his grasp.

Arthur immediately began to stir. Morgana had to think quickly. She fished for the key in the hidden compartment of the drawer she had had transferred from her old room into their new, shared bedroom, and unlocked the drawer containing all her vials with it. She had told Arthur they were expensive perfumes, but in reality they were various concoctions she had sneaked out of Gaius's studies… before Arthur reached full consciousness, she had to find a way of making Arthur swallow a few drops of her sleeping draught without him remembering a second of it. Heart beating in her throat, her head clear, her chest constricting, she managed to pour a few drops of sleeping draught into his mouth as he moaned her name. After swallowing, he immediately fell silent, and Morgana felt sick to the stomach with herself.

 _But why should she feel bad?,_ she asked herself. All she was doing was trying to save him from himself – the insecurities harbored since his birth that could be too easily used against him, his inability to admit to fault or wrongdoing, his pride, his stubbornness… if he were any better a king, she truly could lean back and enjoy the life of a kept woman (not that she would enjoy it, though) but anything would certainly have been easier than having to rule a country through a man who now refused all advice and good intention in order to bask in an illusion of power, without anyone taking notice and whilst having to fear an enemy that no one else but she acknowledged.

She suddenly wondered how Merlin would take the news. Obviously, in her dream he had agreed to her plan; in her dream all things had gone to her liking within the limits of what was possible taking everything into consideration.

If Arthur were an any better a king, he wouldn't need saving, and she wouldn't need to endanger her own life in order to keep his safe. If she didn't love him, she would have conspired with Agravaine. But she loved this fool and inconvenience of a man, no matter what, and she fell in love with him more and more every day. It was impossible and unthinkable to betray him, no matter what he was like. She had had a weak spot for him since their youth; there had always been something inexplicable and magnetic drawing the two together despite their uncountable differences; and in adulthood, that infatuation had developed into true love, despite all the other's flaws.

She donned her red cloak, then slowly pushed open the door; it creaked, but Arthur was sleeping like a shot dog. Turning back forwards, she could see the two guards out cold. Good, she thought, the sleeping draught had worked on them too. It was a miracle what a few vials of the thing could accomplish.

Once up in the Astronomy Tower, she had to wait some time for Merlin to arrive. She was beginning to think he wasn't going to come when he finally showed up, as though materializing out of thin air. He explained that he had used a ring that made him invisible. Morgana's eyes flashed greedily. Rushing up to him, she demanded to know if she could get one as well.

"I so wish," she breathed heavily, "I had even a fraction of the power you wield, Merlin. I do not understand you – you could easily destroy anyone with a snap of your fingers in this castle, so why do you continue being a servant?" Her eyes were full of awe as she talked to him, glittering in the way that had once made him fall in love.

Merlin smiled, smirking slightly, chest swelling with pride. He longed so badly to touch her, to kiss away all her pain and fears, but whether or not he harbored the best intentions, she was the king's wife and he was but a servant.

"I told you, Morgana," he said, eyes brimming with fondness, "I am not interested in power."

"But _still_ – a servant?" Morgana's thirst for power was as inexplicable to Merlin as his complete lack of interest in it was to the Queen.

"I hope to be the king's physician one day," Merlin said, repeating the explanation he had given her thousand times before. Yet still, he knew as he pronounced these words, that she would never be able to understand. This was their one prime difference, the problem that kept getting in the way of an otherwise seamlessly working relationship, an arguably perfect match. "I believe in honest work."

Morgana scoffed, the glitter of admiration disappearing from her eyes. Slightly disgusted and incomprehensive, she said, "That's very noble, Merlin, but the world doesn't appreciate lovers like you. It only appreciates warriors and those who take what they want by whatever means."

"I wouldn't say they appreciate them," Merlin said, taking a step closer, "I'd say they fear them. But they don't love them."

Morgana, stunned by his boldness, looked up to him and there was a glimmer of appreciation in her eyes. There was nothing more attractive than a man who was in love with her, especially when the feeling was returned. There was no greater aphrodisiac than mutual emotion.

"Well," Morgana said, blushing, taking a step back, "I guess the important part is that you go to sleep with a good conscience everyday. Rare gift."

"Gift? More like something I work for," Merlin said. "But you can go to sleep with a good conscience too. You always do what you think is right, damn the consequences. You're a good person, Morgana, who bad things have happened to, but who's trying her best."

 _Compassion._ Another great aphrodisiac.

Arthur rarely ever understood her; it was their differences that had attracted them and made them work, more or less, though passion had never been a problem.

With Merlin, it was completely different; he understood her, and he too preferred the company of books to that of people, finding in them a more trustworthy friend than in many a man, knowledge the only companion that would forever remain loyal. The world of fiction, too, was so easy to get lost in, in which happy endings were guaranteed and the bad always suffered for their actions. Reality, in comparison, was a badly written dystopia.

 _No_ , she told herself, stopping the onslaught of nostalgia, and reminding herself to stay strong even in the face of numerous marital troubles, when an affair seemed like a saving grace compared to the hell of her marriage.

Her husband was in cahoots with the man intent on removing her from court no matter the price, listening to his every word and ignoring all her advice… saying it was just a bad phase seemed ludicrous.

What other couple would go through this and still remain strong? The odds were against them. It was a miracle, or rather a curse, that she and Arthur had gotten together, even if only for so long.

It was so hard not to long for the arms of the man who had never disappointed her while she was married to one who disappointed her every day of his life.

Oh, if only there was anyone else in the castle she trusted! But Uther was a mad man confined to his chambers, hidden out of sight to keep his legacy intact, to ensure the rumor mills of royal courts weren't spinning stories of his descent into lunacy.

Her old friend Guinevere was long gone, banished to serve some duchess far away, leaving her with Merlin as her only remaining confidante. What a predicament, to have to work with her own ex-lover to save her current one! But alas, she wasn't a woman to trust easily and it had always served her well.

"Merlin…" Morgana said, turning away brusquely and barely noticeably edging farther away from the handsome servant. "I trust Gaius has more or less filled you in on what I am about to ask you."

"He might have mentioned some things, yes," Merlin confirmed.

Morgana nodded. "I am sorry to burden you with such a task. I mean no harm in asking you, and this is not a way to torture you, and I am sorry. But I trust no one else with my secrets but you in this castle, and I don't trust anyone else to have the ability to carry out what I am about to entrust you with. Do you understand?"

Morgana's visible distress ignited within Merlin his instincts to protect – always to protect, always to do the right and noble thing…

Morgana swallowed hard. Merlin could not be saved from himself either: he would love and trust even to his own detriment, even when the object of his affections begged him to refrain from doing so. "No, Merlin," she said, seeing the look on his face, "This is not a social call. This is merely – this is for Camelot, not for us. Please. Don't make this any more difficult than it is. You're not the only one suffering."

Merlin's face became cloaked. Once rejected, he did not want to prolong his humiliation by relentless attempts to win her heart – they wouldn't work, anyway. She was as stubborn as Uther. "What is it that you want me to do?" he asked finally, teeth ground.

"Just – find out what Agravaine is doing. Follow him, find out what he's doing and with whom. Tell me anything and everything I can use against him to remove his evil influence from Court."

Merlin nodded. "I will do that, Morgana."

"Thank you. Camelot's fate depends on you."

 _Yours does, too,_ Merlin said, but said nothing.

And without another word, he slipped on his invisibility ring and disappeared out of sight. She heard his footsteps walk away but made no move to stop him, even if her greatest regret was to not have kissed him and allowed him to take her right there and then. Disappointment constricting her chest like a tightrope, she sat on the cold floor of the Astronomy Tower, staring up at the stars, willing the weight lift from her shoulders as she looked at the vast universe… and for just a few moments, she was able to feel like a child again – weightless and blissfully empty…

The light of the full moon illuminated her way as she returned to her side of the castle. She took long, determined steps as she walked, her red robe billowing behind her, like a demon in the night.

She stepped over the sleeping bodies of the knights and she opened the door to her chambers. Stepping inside, to her greatest relief, she found Arthur not only sleeping like a baby, untouched, unharmed, as blissfully unburdened by life in his sleep as she had been contemplating the stars and the vastness of the universe around them.

Even if the objective of her mission had been for Camelot's greater good – especially its King – eliminating the guards for the night had endangered Arthur, for which she could not help but feel guilt no matter the purity of her motives. But fortunately, no harm had befallen him.

She sat beside him on the bed, and gingerly breathed a kiss on his forehead, brushing his golden locks out of the way. _She loved him so, so much_ , and wondered how it was humanly possible to love someone so much and still love another. Emotions risked being the cause for her downfall before Agravaine could even get his shoes on to destroy her. Then she dismissed the thought. If even she didn't believe in herself, she thought, there was no use trying to do anything for the Kingdom. Even if no one else believed in her, she had to, for the sake of her own mission.

To comfort herself, she tucked herself in beside Arthur and hugged his head to her chest, his preferred method of falling asleep, and caressed his hair and basked in the glow of his serene expression as she slowly fell asleep, retreating into a world where her troubles were no longer her own, her fate no longer etched in stone, and a happy ending waiting just around the corner…

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A/N: This story is about a love triangle, so if anyone is opposed to a character having mixed emotions about her relationships (past or present), or even acting out on those emotions, this story is going to make you very angry. (Not trying to spoil anything, I thought this was obvious from the start.)

Again, no disrespect to anyone who's morally conflicted by Morgana's decisions (as is she), but this story was about a love triangle from the beginning and those frequently involve emotions such as these. So if you don't enjoy those kinds of things, this is sadly probably not going to be to your liking.

Anyway, thank you to all for reviewing, and I hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it.

P.S.: In about five chapters, it is coming to an end (if all goes according to plan.)

Thanks so much for readig so far and I hope you'll enjoy the rest of this story all the way to the end! xx


	14. The Beginning of the End

_Chapter Fourteen_

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 **T** he following morning, Arthur awoke groggily and commented on the peacefulness of his sleep. Morgana laughed and told him she was glad he felt well-rested. If Arthur thought anything was out of the ordinary, he didn't show it, and though Morgana had done something out of the ordinary to say the least, she didn't let on. As he got out of bed, Morgana stood on her knees on the bed and pulled him into a long, passionate kiss. He responded half-heartedly before brusquely pulling away.

"Sorry," Arthur said, looking mildly contrite, "I have a lot of things on my mind."

"Why don't you tell me?" Morgana asked, sitting back on the bed, vanquished.

"You know perfectly well why I don't," Arthur said. "I don't want to be influenced by you,"

Morgana was getting tired of trying to get him to understand through gentle coaxing and subtle… well, let's call it _motivating._ _Overtly hurting his pride might do the trick_ , she thought. "All you've done is exchange my influence for Agravaine's. At least mine was benevolent."

"Are you insinuating again that he's planning to overthrow my rule? That he's in cahoots with the Saxons?"

"Well, for all we know –" Morgana said, ever the voice of reason.

"Oh, stop it already, will you!?" Arthur snapped, losing patience. "I refuse to hear another word of this drivel. My uncle is a good man. I know your father was betrayed by his brother but my family isn't the same as yours. Trust me." The worst part was, from his expression and tone of voice, Morgana could tell Arthur did not see what was wrong with his words.

"Oh, wow," Morgana snapped.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, not sounding it, "but it's the truth. Not all families are like yours. And that's a good thing." Arthur placed a hand on her face gently and was about to lean in to kiss her when she snapped his hand away and turned away angrily.

"Need I remind you why I was chosen by your father as your wife?"

"You're really intent on ruining this marriage, aren't you?" Arthur said, sighing heavily, shaking his head.

"Not anymore than you intend to ruin this country," Morgana snapped, flaring up, springing to her feet from the bed. She barely reached up to Arthur's chin, but what she lacked in stature she made up in strength of presence. "Agravaine is using you. He was never around when you were young, was he?"

"My father entrusted him with important lands that needed to be taken care of –" Arthur began exasperatedly.

"And suddenly the lands aren't that important as they were, or what?" Morgana was on fire with rage.

"Their relationship wasn't always the best –" A bead of sweat rolled down Arthur's forehead as he grew increasingly uncomfortable. He didn't have the answer to Morgana's questions, though neither did he deem those questions important.

"Exactly," Morgana said. "And that's all the motive you need."

"What? Do you hear yourself? Agravaine was my mother's brother, and he loved her to bits, do you seriously expect me to believe he would betray his own kin to succeed to the throne?"

"He's an ambitious man, as is evidenced by the fact that he looks down on his own son for not having a so-called respectable profession," Morgana proceeded. "Please, just listen to me, I want nothing more than to – " her face and tone softened as he saw Arthur delve into contemplation. But the moment she did Arthur took the chance and went on the offensive. Morgana constantly forgot that Arthur was more emotionally driven than her – and whereas she was driven by love, he was driven by pride and ambition, and his ego was as inflated as it was breakable, like a large bubble of soap that could shatter by a child's breath. His only redeeming quality as king was his most irritating one as well: his constant need to win. But a true king knew when to lose a battle to win the war, and Arthur was still a prince.

"I get it, Morgana," Arthur said condescendingly, and Morgana felt in herself the desire to punch him swell. But because she wasn't an animal, she held back. "You're paranoid because of what happened to your family. But accept that what happened to you – the odds of that repeating are ridiculously low. I can even imagine that you have the best intentions. But I beg of you, stop this madness. Agravaine isn't out to get me. He is here to help. To make up for all the time lost –"

Morgana wanted to scream, like a savage, all anger and nothing else. She saw red. She hated being patronized by those clearly unarmed in a battle of intelligence. She was tired of assisting to his charade. He was not king, and she wasn't queen consort; while they were both raised to be sovereigns of their own countries, only one of them had grown up big enough to fulfill the destiny they had been entrusted with. She was not someone's _consort,_ she should be a sovereign in her own right, not the mouthpiece behind a king who refused to listen.

But all she did was stand and smile, a grin reaching ear to ear, her green eyes glinting like the Cheshire Cat's, "Arthur," she said, her voice falsely gentle. Arthur grinned cockily before saying, "What?" Morgana's smile widened. "You're single-handedly the stupidest man I have ever met," she said. Arthur stood in the doorway, stunned, his mouth slightly agape in shock. "You can go now," she said coolly, her smile an invitation to battle.

Arthur's eyes clouded and his jaw clenched in anger. He took a step closer to her, looking angrier than she remembered seeing him in a long time.

"This is the problem with you," he said, his voice low and hoarse with fury, "you still think you're Queen of Cornwall." The calm before the storm, before it all exploded, before it all went to shit. "But this is Camelot. And here you're nothing. The only reason you're allowed to live and in such luxury is because of my and my father's grace! You'd do well to keep that in mind."

He had closed the space between them and the air was suddenly disconcertingly hot, filled with hatred and passion and rage. A retour to their adolescent years, the pinnacle of all their problems: Morgana's intellectual superiority and Arthur's standing in society. The only reason Morgana had even given Arthur a second glance because she was forced to interact with him – before the downfall of her country, before the massacre of her family, she had thought him a funny little fool without a chance in hell of becoming the great king his father paraded himself around as having the potential of. A show-off and a know-it-all who made the former realized all that he was lacking, a dose of reality he never could appreciate. No wonder they had never gotten along. Add hormones and an arranged marriage to the mix, and you've got yourself hell on wheels, a ticking bomb without a timer.

As they grew up together in Uther's court, a rather special bond of rather special bond of love and hatred developed, the balance constantly tipping in the favor of one or the other. For months, the balance had tipped overwhelmingly and unprecedentedly to love. But alas, all things die eventually, and some have a shorter expiration date than most.

Images flashed in Morgana's mind. When they first met, as children, who had gotten along fairly well until they had to choose a captain for their play-expedition, and neither would cede the post to the other while the other children watched exasperatedly as they squabbled. The first time they kissed after Arthur had won his first melee, her sneaking a kiss from him as they bid goodbye after a surprisingly fun evening. But Arthur was overly cocky and Morgana feared becoming another conquest, and the possibility of having to live as his ex for the rest of her days in his father's court even if they didn't immediately break up afterwards seemed like a dire predicament, and therefore she cut her losses before she became too involved. The attraction didn't die out immediately, however, and Arthur would suffer in silence as he watched Morgana try to move on with others. Better safe than sorry, her motto was. Not that after seeing her father torture her mother for decades she had much trust in men when it came to her heart. She had no regrets. But it hurt, for some inexplicable reason, when he fell in love with Guinevere. It wasn't hard to put one and two together; the second she stepped out of the castle, Arthur, for months, lost his usual cockiness and became sullen. She wondered why they had kept it secret – for their safety or for that of her heart? But it mattered little. She controlled her emotions and moved on again. Then months later, after Morgana had already begun a relationship with Merlin (not out of spite but because she finally admitted to herself that she loved, no, needed Arthur's manservant) the prince began to confide in her, telling her about his heartbreak (though never naming the culprit), asking for advice – _after all, we grew up together,_ he had said. It only made sense to try to make the best of their peculiar relationship. The time Uther begged her to take his son as her husband to save his kingdom. The atmosphere that changed between them after Uther had talked to them both. The stolen glances, the inexplicably accelerating heartbeat, the potential that resurfaced after laying dormant for so long… the time he kissed her at the melee, the first time they made love, and now, him, standing in front of her, reminding her of her station, taking away from her the only thing she had left to live for: Camelot.

They had grown up together, true, but they had also grown apart and there was nothing uniting them anymore.

Stunning the King, Queen Morgana gave a bow that Arthur couldn't decide whether it was mocking or not, and said in a sickly-sweet tone, "I am sorry, Sire. It shall never happen again." Before getting up and without a hint of any sort of emotion in her eyes, she went behind the screen to get dressed.

Arthur stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing how to act. "Alright," he said somberly. "O-our servants will soon be arriving."

"That's alright," Morgana said gently, "I will just get back to organizing Cotillion. Is that alright with you? What should I do?"

As always when given a choice by Morgana, Arthur was dumbfounded by her trust, which he rarely got. "Yeah, sure, do that," he said, catching on that Morgana was humoring hi, to the game. "As long as you don't interfere with any of what I am doing."

Morgana tensed and unintentionally emitted a low, guttural sound of dissatisfaction. But Arthur's smirk quickly faded from his face when she said, "Anything the King says," with that sing-song, derisive voice.

"Yes, that is right," Arthur said, feeling pathetic.

Morgana emerged from behind the screen dressed in the green and purple robe Arthur so liked. Her hair was a mess, but with her jewels and clothes she was already a sight to behold, and desire swelled within him, the only thing that could still nullify his rage. But hers went far beyond that. She smiled. "I will retire to my chambers to get dressed, if you don't mind."

Arthur was about to respond when she said, "I wouldn't want to interfere with the important business the King has to attend to," she added with a repulsed scowl before starting for the door.

"You're a witch, Morgana," he said, brimming with hatred.

"I wish," she said, "then I wouldn't have to put up with the likes of you."

And with that, Morgana walked out of his chambers, and Arthur stood there in his nightwear, feeling pathetic and defeated by this woman he sometimes hated, sometimes loved but always desired and wanted to protect – from herself, from the outside world –, but also conquer. And a plan to get his revenge for the morning fiasco was already formulating in his mind.

If only she could give into him – stop trying to prove her superiority – then so could he – and they could all live happily ever after – why couldn't she just see that!? If they could go back to what they were just a few weeks ago – when she was supportive and gentle instead of this witch – he had enough enemies in his kingdom, he didn't need one inside the bedroom too.

And he couldn't – he couldn't live anymore knowing just how little she thought of him. And he couldn't shake the feeling that that her love wasn't as pure as she pretended, that it was heavily reliant on his position as king and what it could offer her as the removed heir to Cornwall's throne – and while he could understand and sympathize, he still didn't want a user for a wife.

She needed to see him as King, or their doomed union needed to end for good. They had already dragged out their cursed attraction for too long.

It was now or never.

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A/N: Kind of boring as the development of the story goes, sorry, but I needed to show how they both felt about the relationship at this point, and we don't get to see inside Arthur's head enough anyway. Well, well... the beginning of the end is near and I am so excited to share it with you guys!


	15. The Arrest

_Chapter Fifteen_

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 **T** he following morning Merlin began the task Morgana had set out for him. Donning his ring of invisibility, which he had taken months to create. When he exited his chambers, Gaius, looking considerably fresher than himself, commented on his appearance:

"You look like you have been to hell and back," he commented. "What happened last night? What did she tell you?" It was obvious from Gaius's comportment that he thought Morgana to be the manifestation of evil, a menace he was intent on shielding his apprentice from.

He sighed, wanting to explain to his mentor that his vision of Morgana couldn't be farther from the truth, but refraining from doing so, knowing full well it would have been of no use. He didn't want to hear another sermon on the wrongness of his ways, "Nothing. I refused." He looked Gaius straight in the eye, willing every atom in his body to support the lie. He also didn't want Gaius sniffing around trying to stop him from fulfilling his task. He swallowed hard, but his eyes remained unwavering. Gaius scrutinized him with his piercing grey eyes, and while he found no signs of insincerity he found no signs of sincerity, either. Merlin's face was a perfect, blank canvas. Snorting ruefully, Gaius said, "I do not believe you have the power to refuse the wishes of a woman who has so clearly got you wrapped around your finger."

"Believe what you want, Gaius," he said. "I said no. I told her we would be eventually caught and tried for adultery if we were ever found together, especially if Agravaine is out to get her. And I don't want to lose my life."

Gaius's furrowed his brows. He seemed convincing enough, so for the time being Gaius left Merlin be. However, Merlin was certain Gaius would be back soon, after attending to his own morning chores. Merlin knew he had to be quick. When Gaius retreated to his chambers, Merlin seized the chance to swiftly disappear. Within a second, he was already out the door, and Gaius could find no trace of him or no indication where he had gone other than an ominously open door, slowly creaking shut in his wake, holding a paper in his hand. He hadn't meant to involve Merlin initially but now it was obvious Merlin was already knee deep in trouble, and telling him about Morgana's true ancestry and the prophecy would only aid him. Defeated, knowing he had lost, he fell to the old chair at his wooden desk, staring in the nothingness in front of himself, not knowing what to do.

 _The prophecy has been set in motion._

And when it did, Gaius was sure to lose the biological daughter he had who resented him for meddling with her life and the man he loved as his own son, along with the last shining hope for the New World.

He looked on the paper on front of himself, on which the words of the prophecy were jotted down hastily that the lovely Lady Vivian had told him. Besides the words of the prophecy, he also had with him several letters he was dying to show Merlin to make him understand the extent of the menace Morgana posed, unwittingly at this point of her life or not.

The words of the prophecy rang inside his head along with the words of the last letters of his deceased ex-lover: _Morgana is beginning to discover her powers. Last night, she got into a squabble with her sister and pushed her so hard Morgause crashed against the wall. Luckily, Morgause was unharmed and I managed to convince everyone that Morgana didn't use magic, that it was her anger that had given her a rush powerful enough to push Morgause against the wall. But to ensure her own safety – as well as that of the rest of my family – I am begging you to tell me the recipe of the potion that diminishes one's magical powers. I am afraid for my family's safety – her magic is promising to be as powerful as yours, and the greedy glint in her eyes scared me. She enjoyed the power she wielded over her sister in that moment and I fear such power might corrupt her. She shares so many of Gorlois's traits – I am afraid this is a result of his raising rather than a hereditary condition. We need to cut the thorn in the root before it blossoms, Gaius. Please send back letter quickly._

And for years, Morgana's mother had supplied her daughter with a draught so potent that within weeks all traces of Morgana's powers disappeared after having injected Morgana with a virus. She disguised the potion as a medicament prescribed by the health practitioner (which is how they called physicians in Cornwall) after Morgana fell ill with fever. Even if she had to suffer a beating from her odious husband for letting Gorlois's favorite get sick, Catherine had no regrets; she was doing what was right, damn the consequences. Something her daughter had inherited from her.

It was all so clear to Gaius: Morgana, despite all her pretenses, was hungry for her old kingdom's throne and was willing to jeopardize Arthur's reign for her own gain. Agravaine, having realized this, was attempting to nullify the wretched would-be witch's influence on the poor, impressionable Arthur. Lady Vivian had told her so, and he wasn't about to discredit the prophecy of the greatest Seer of her time.

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Merlin, doing good on his promise, after completing all the chores for Arthur, activated his invisibility ring and shadowed the King and his uncle for the remainder of the day. Their conversations were long, boring and tedious; much of it was politics, which he was interested in but not to this extent. Then some gossip about other royals, then talk of women and finally, of Morgana…

Finally, he would discover just how well-founded his fears were.

"She came at me today again," Arthur said, shaking his head, looking sad despite all attempts. He seemed on the verge of giving up altogether on their relationship. That meant nothing good for Morgana, he thought, tensing.

"Hm-ph," harrumphed Agravaine in response. "The usual?"

"Ah, yes, of course, the usual, that I cannot make decisions and you're here to take my throne…"

"Unless she dies, I am not sure how she imagines I'd do that," Agravaine said, laughing. "Does she imagine I came here to massacre your entire family?"

"Heh," Arthur said. "I wouldn't be surprised if she did. You know, what with her family history and all –"

"Ah, well, excuse me, Sire, if I may be so bold…"

"Go ahead, Uncle,"

"It has been five years since the massacre. And while no one is saying what befell her wasn't a heart-breaking tragedy… it is my impression that after half a decade, one could expect… more from one's wife, don't you think?"

Arthur looked pained, like he wasn't sure if he agreed but he wanted to forgive Morgana, from which his pride was clearly holding him back from.

"Well, I mean –" Arthur began at last. He shook his head then shrugged. "I don't think it's something you can ever get over. And to lose all one's family members in one swell swoop – I think that's… insurmountable."

Agravaine sighed.

"How did you feel when you lost Ygraine?"

It was the first time since the beginning of their conversation since genuine emotion passed over Agravaine's face – hatred and grief – but it disappeared as quickly as it had become. Agravaine's tan, wrinkled skin smoothed out as much as possible and became once again a perfect, blank canvas. "I'd prefer not to speak of it, Sire, if you so allow."

"Sure, I allow it, Agravaine," Arthur said, clearly very much pleased by his uncle's subservient comportment, "for I feel the same way. Imagine that tenfold. And then imagine losing everything you had – she had a bloody kingdom, Agravaine. Now she's got nothing but her name, and even that isn't worth much anymore."

Agravaine sighed, and for a second appeared sad or so, despite himself, for Morgana as he tried to imagine himself in her shoes. He quickly stopped the exercise, finding it highly displeasing.

"I understand," Agravaine said. "How you feel about her..."

Arthur scoffed, but let him continue, "But you need a Queen who supports you. And while Uther had mistakenly thought in his last, barely – how do I put it? – _conscious_ … days, as you said, Morgana might never be able to move on from her family's death. She had truly lived through horrors. But her troubles aren't your own. You are a great man, Arthur, and you'll make a great king… as soon as you rule with your own head and not depend on the counsel of your wife."

Arthur sighed. "No, you don't get it – where will she go if we divorce? Who will want her? She has nothing – no title, no lands –"

"You could grant her some," Agravaine said. "Not too big, but just enough to get by. And what is it to you what becomes of her? Her troubles aren't your own, Sire."

Arthur glared at him.

"I mean – I am sorry for being so bold – I just…"

"It's OK," Arthur sighed. "Many people don't like her. I don't get why…"

Agravaine said, "She is a very… divisive person. Polarizing, is the better word. That is not a bad thing, necessarily. But bad for a royal in all cases. Don't you think? Would you truly want to abide by the advice she gives you? Even if Uther held her in high esteem? Do you truly think he was right to?"

Arthur sat in silent contemplation, staring out at the window where (Merlin could see as he noiselessly approached) he was watching Morgana have tea outside with a group of society ladies, telling stories and jokes and generally being the life of the gathering. She seemed nothing like the broken lunatic Agravaine painted her out to be.

And yet once again Arthur was faced with the choice between believing his own eyes and trusting the advice of someone much older and experienced. His father's words rang in his head, disabling him from fully concentrating on the task at hand. They kept repeating: _You are stupid. You'll never be a great King. You'll have to heavily depend on your advisors if you want to rule well, but I doubt you'll be able to choose them well if it comes down to it. Oh, God! What have I done to deserve such a son?_

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Gaius, after finishing his own chores in the morning, begged all the competent personnel for an audience with the king, his papers of the prophecy and letters and portraits sent over to him by Catherine clutched tightly in his hands, not letting anyone see them but the King, no matter how much they demanded to. Because Gaius was a respected and beloved member of the staff, and because the servants knew in just how high an esteem Arthur held Gaius, finally the King granted him an audience. Alone in the vast and usually populous Great Hall, sweating uncomfortably and heart beating in his chest, he approached Arthur at the Royal Table, finding it harder and harder to walk with each step. He felt his bones creaked as old, unoiled machinery as he moved closer to the King. Sometimes, just sometimes, the pain of living outscored the joy thereof, and it got too hard to live. He wished, he only wished for a little peace, a little piece of heaven which he had gotten with Catherine – ever since then, everything had only gone downhill…

Steadying himself against a cursed onslaught of emotions, Gaius, to Arthur's command, sat down beside the King and was served duck breast and fine rosé, despite his feeble protestations which Arthur quickly shut down by reminding him of his station.

"So tell me, Gaius," Arthur said. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Mildly surprised that Agravaine was nowhere in sight, but refraining from commenting on it, Gaius turned to Arthur and with trembling hands placed the documents he had brought with himself on the table. _Relax, Gaius,_ he told himself, _you are not betraying your daughter. You are fighting for Camelot._

But no nice words assuaged the guilt slowly consuming him, burning him alive. Another bead of sweat rolled down his cheeks.

"Why are you so nervous, Gaius?" Arthur asked, brows furrowed as he gingerly took the documents in his hand, pushing his food aside with the other. Gaius couldn't even look at his own, even though his stomach was churning with hunger. He kept cracking his knuckles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, as Arthur read over the papers he had brought over.

A look of utter confusion overtook the King's face as he did so.

"What – what is all this!?" Arthur demanded after he finished reading. "I think Morgana is your daughter – what is all this, Gaius, and why haven't you told me so far!? And what is this shoddy poem? Am I supposed to believe this is like a prophecy of some sort!?"

Fearing for his life, Gaius said, now bathing in sweat, "I… I didn't think – I didn't know – I…"

Arthur sighed. "Don't worry, Gaius, I am not about to take your life for it. I just need an explanation. I need to understand. What is all this and why have you kept it from me all this years?"

And for the umpteenth time in his life, Gaius concluded that there was never a better man – and especially not a royal – than King Arthur.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Gaius burst into a tiny smile and his eyes sparkled with pride, as though Arthur were his own son, before beginning his story: he explained to Arthur how he had met Catherine, Morgana's mother, and how their illicit liaison continued into even her married years, until she eventually cut it off towards the untimely end of her life; how she never felt the tiniest bit of remorse over it, considering it justified because of the abuse Gorlois dealt her, and how he couldn't help but sympathize with her on that point; and finally, how Morgana was born of their forbidden romance. Lastly, how horrible Gorlois had made the lives of his own children; unable to stomach the intrigue of court, Morgana's older brother Mordred ran away, refusing to follow in his father's footsteps. Gorlois, instead of choosing Morgause, the older of his remaining children, picked Morgana as his heir, finding her to be more capable, causing strife and jealousy between the two sisters. Eventually, Morgause grew to accept her inferior position in court, and in a twist of fate, Catherine's only illegitimate child became Gorlois's favorite. As a result, he was particularly harsh on her, but arguably the worst part of her childhood was constantly having to save her mother from Gorlois's abuse. Gaius began detailing the sordidness of Catherine's marriage, quoting passages from letters, but stopped mid-way seeing Arthur's repulsed and confused expression. "Why?" _Just why?_ That was all he asked. Why did she stay? Her Catholicism? Why? He could not understand.

Gaius took a deep breath. "Because to her, family and ambition were everything, and they were heavily entwined. Her family, the Valois dynasty, was removed from the throne of Cornwall through a coup d'etat by one of Gorlois's ancestors several generations ago. Since then, her family had changed their name and lived in a secluded village in shame, squandering away all their remaining riches. By the time Catherine was born, her family had nothing left except for a changed name that meant as little, or perhaps even less, than the name of the hated Valois family. Both to save her family from starvation and general depravation, and to reclaim the throne her parents instilled in her was rightfully hers, she agreed to marry Gorlois, having been introduced to him by a former, also wealthy fiancé. To her, family and honor were everything, and for a woman of her means the only way to get by in life was through a good marriage. You have to understand… it wasn't as clear cut for her as it was for…" you… "for many others," Gaius finished at last.

He wasn't sure whether Arthur got the gist of what he was saying, but Arthur nodded. "Sounds familiar," he said at last. Gaius nodded fervently.

"I am not saying Morgana means harm," he added hastily, "all I am saying is that she might be… misguided, like her mother was to some extent."

Arthur nodded slowly, taking it in, his blue eyes clouded, the cogs in his mind whirring.

"And that is not all," Gaius said, fishing among his papers for the one containing the prophecy. Arthur leaned forward in his chair, interested. "I do not know whether you Sire are a believer in the occult…"

Arthur nodded. "Yes," he said readily.

Gaius looked at him, stunned, in a way that made the King slightly uncomfortable. _Already so different from his father,_ Gaius thought gratefully, mentally reciting a quick prayer of thanks to the gods who have sent Arthur to finally bring about a better era in the history of Camelot.

"Then… then I present you this… the prophecy of one of the greatest Seers alive today, perhaps the greatest… Lady Vivian of the Bourbon family," he said, giving Arthur the paper.

Arthur quickly read the words of the prophecy. Stunned, swallowing hard, he looked at Gaius and said, "We need to arrest her, immediately."

Gaius nodded, surprised that the son of the man who had always dismissed his advice was so ready to take it.

"GUARDS!" Arthur yelled.

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Morgana was sitting in the library, poring over books about relationships and society events, folding the edges of the pages containing valuable information and jotting down notes on a separate piece of paper with a quill, wondering where her life had gone so wrong as to stoop this low. From the queen to become of a sovereign nation to the shallow existence of a kept woman… certainly, her life could have been worse in a million of ways, and she was grateful for the kindness Uther had shown her, but to insinuate Arthur showed grace of any sort –

She tried to calm down. But it was so hate when every fiber of her being was burning with hatred. But it wasn't practical. It wasn't logical. Her fists unclenched. She finally calmed down.

She tried to search for some love in her heart for the man she had married, but she found none. She tried to at least clear her mind and heart of hatred, which was clouding her judgment and impeding her progress.

The preparations for Cotillion was almost complete, she thought glancing at the paper on which she had jotted down all her ideas for it. Then she turned her attention to the paper containing all her ideas to save her marriage. It was nearly empty. Apparently, their union was almost certainly doomed.

If she didn't have Camelot, she had nothing left.

Suddenly, as she was lost in thought, the doors of the library burst upon and she was snapped back to reality. Castle guards stormed inside the lieu of utter peace amid vehement protestations of Cyril the scribe ("This is a library, good sirs! What the hell do you think you are doing!?") that went ignored; the guards went straight for a spell-struck Morgana.

"What is this? What is happening!?" she demanded, panicked, as the guards grabbed her roughly and began to drag her away faster than she could keep up. "I am the Queen of Camelot, and I demand to be released at once!" she yelled after regaining some composure. In that precise second, she passed Arthur and Gaius, standing by the wall, Arthur with his arms folded testily against his chest and Gaius with blue eyes shining with guilt, barely able to meet her eyes.

"NO!" she screamed. "STOP THEM! ARTHUR!"

Arthur's face was impassive, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

Morgana's face went purple with rage. "You will pay for this, I swear, Arthur Pendragon! You are digging your own grave!"

Arthur watched, stoic, his face not as much as twitching as they dragged her away. Gaius worriedly looked at him, wondering what had come over the normally so easily moved boy. Then as she was out of sight, the façade of unfeelingness dropped to be replaced by worry and regret, a man wondering if what seemed to be the obviously right decision was truly the right one. It was the first time Arthur had made a choice without the interference of criticism of either Uther, Morgana or Agravaine, and it felt exhilarating.

"I think it was the right choice, Sire," Gaius said, answering the unspoken question visible in his eyes.

Arthur grinned despite himself. "Thank you," he said. Gaius was the only one whose council didn't reek of ulterior motives.

It felt good to finally find an advisor worth listening to.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was cut in half due to length. Hope you still like it!


	16. The Alliance

_Chapter Sixteen_

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 **M** eanwhile, Merlin was busy completing the task Morgana had entrusted him with. It felt exhilarating to be included in the comings and goings of the court as a servant. Mattering, having an influence made him feel important and gave justification to his existence. He never thought involvement in politics could feel this good. But this was for the good of the people, he reminded himself, not what royals usually do, which is just furthering their own glory and choosing all means to achieve their ends. Dismissing the intrusive thoughts of his own importance, he refocused his attention on Agravaine, whom he was currently shadowing.

Agravaine had left on horseback (to ensure no one else saw him, probably) under the pretext of seeing his mistress. Merlin had to murmur an incantation to increase his speed to be able to keep up. Finally, after several minutes of riding, Agravaine arrived to his destination: a quaint little college on the outskirts of the city of Camelot on the edge of a forest that was considered no man's land and was rumored to be teeming with dangerous magical creatures and bandits. He briefly wondered who on earth could be living here? He was about to find out, anyway.

Agravaine dismounted his steed and tied the reins to a piece of wood coming out of the soil assumedly there for this very purpose. In front of the piece of wood lay an ample amount of hay to keep him busy while his master did whatever he had come for. Merlin murmured a spell to soften the sound of his steps, but he was too nervous to be able to concentrate properly and kept messing up the spell repeatedly. Angry with himself for failing, he stopped trying to get it right and tried instead to tiptoe barely audibly. However, as soon as he stepped on the porch he heard the wood creak under his feet. Agravaine's head whipped back to see who was following him, but seeing no one he dismissed the noise as a product of his imagination and stepped inside the house, shutting it behind him, his dark cloak billowing behind him like a flying bat.

Merlin's usually quick mind was impeded by his nerves. He took several deep breaths to calm himself before slowly, very slowly climbing up the porch steps and settling in front of a window. The horse outside with him heard his steps but the people inside the house remained oblivious to his presence.

He tried several charms to enhance his hearing, but a protective spell stopped him from succeeding each time. Finally, he managed to break through the protective barrier and eavesdropped the rest of their conversation.

Inside the room stood Agravaine and a woman of curly, dark hair and electric blue eyes. She was a sight to behold in her blue and purple robe. She had never seen a woman more beautiful than this stranger. There was only one woman whose beauty was comparable to that of this woman… But no, he thought. That's impossible. And he dismissed the odd notion that he had seen this woman somewhere before immediately.

He wondered, _Is she Agravaine's lover_? How odd. Agravaine looked like he was the Devil's spawn. Could money truly buy affection from anyone? Was she a prostitute?

Thousands of questions whirred through his mind, but silenced them to be able to listen.

"Well, Agravaine, color me surprised," she said unimpressed, a look of disdain on her face. She still looked amazingly beautiful. "You failed to succeed, again."

"It's not my fault," Agravaine snapped. "Your sister is feeding his head with lies! Telling him that I am looking to ruin him –"

Merlin's heart started beating so hard that he could barely concentrate. _S-sister?_

"Well, aren't you?" the woman said with a cocky smile as though proud of her sister. "Ah, good old Morgana…" she sighed nostalgically. "It's a pity she has to be removed."

"Why does she, Milady?" Agravaine asked. "She is beginning to hate Arthur just as much as we do."

"Hate the poor bastard? I have nothing against the fool," the woman laughed. "You are the one that hates him. I pity him. He inherited the world and knows not what to do with it. That's a worse predicament than whatever you think you are in, Agravaine." She talked down to him like an emotionally overindulgent child. If Agravaine noticed, he made no note of it.

Why was he so afraid of her? And if he was afraid, why was he plotting with her against the Kingdom? Was he really that power-hungry?

"Well, in any case," Agravaine countered, "She could be helpful to us. She is really very intelligent,"

"You don't need to sing my sister's praises to me," the woman snapped. "I know her all too well. I've heard it all my life… how she's smarter than you, Morgause, how she's tougher than you, more fit to rule…" she rolled her eyes. "But people can be wrong." She shrugged then burst into a wicked grin. "What has she done since our parents died? All she did was party it up in Camelot and then married a man she cannot even control,"

"To her credit," Agravaine said. "She could pretty much guide him to do whatever she wanted before my arrival."

"It's not a feat if he's that malleable," Morgause said dismissively. "I would love to have my sister by my side, but do you honestly think she would let me get the throne? The throne that she was raised to believe was rightfully hers?"

Agravaine said nothing. Morgause's voice became deeper, booming, and her eyes had lost their previous mischievous tingle. She looked intimidating. But she was as frail as Morgana – what could Agravaine be so afraid of? He didn't look like an intimidated man but one that feared for his life.

"I don't know – maybe – if you give her a seat on the privy council –"

Morgause burst into a cold, rueful laugh. "She would never accept to stoop so low. You don't know my sister like I do."

"It would be better than nothing."

"Yeah, she could accept," Morgause contemplated, "but how long do you think it would be before she tried to overthrow my reign? And in any case, in our kingdom, many would call for her to be the queen instead of me as my father had ordained. As a royal, there is no such thing as safety, but I do not need to increase the odds against me, don't you think?"

"What are you planning to do with her, Morgause?"

"Well, what would be most practical for her to do right now is to die," Morgause mused. "But that's a bit cold, even for me. If she signs her rights away, she can live. But I doubt she will do that." Her eyes sparkled maliciously, as though resistance was exactly what she was hoping for.

"Why do you hate her so, Morgause? What has she done to you?"

"It's not as much as what she had done as what she had failed to do," Morgause said. "I lived in her shadow for all my life," her voice rose here with anger, "I sacrificed my life for her – we all did – so one day she could rule and she had failed us all. I had stepped aside all my life to let her shine, thinking the situation was God-ordained, but I can see now that only my blind father had ordained this mistake. She failed to reclaim the throne, she failed to do anything to justify our sacrifice for her! All she did was fool around with men and then married a man who she cannot even use for her own ends. Pathetic."

Agravaine swallowed hard.

"You're not one to judge, Agravaine," Morgause said coolly. "You are willing to do away with your own nephew to get near the throne. You should understand more than anyone what it feels like to be so near it, to be deserving of it, only to be denied it in favor of someone incapable of ruling!"

"He is an incapable ruler, I –" Agravaine was so overtaken by emotion he finally dared to raise his voice, the first time during their conversation when he showed any backbone.

"So is my sister," Morgause said with a complicit grin, her blue eyes dancing malignantly. "I've given her half a decade. In the meantime, she's accomplished nothing but I have become Queen of the Druids!" she raised her arms and all the objects in the room began to levitate. Agravaine watched in awe as they floated mid-air before being dropped unceremoniously back to their rightful place, not suffering even as much as a scratch as they did so.

The two plotters than burst into a loud, ear-hurting laughter that resonated inside the cottage.

Merlin sat outside, rooted to the spot, at loss for what to do and scared of the woman inside. When she had used her magic, he had felt its immense power. They weren't up against just Agravaine anymore; they were up against Morgana's powerful sorceress sister, thought to be dead for so long, and all the druids. There was no way to win against all the druids… how had she united them all? They were constantly persecuted and lived disbanded in various parts of not only Camelot but all the Five Kingdoms. What had she done to incense them? The druids were normally a very peaceful people –

Merlin stopped himself short. Overhearing the conversation had answered a lot of questions only to raise even more. All he knew was that he had to leave and warn Morgana and Arthur and Gaius to get out of the castle as fast as possible –

He began to run frantically when suddenly an invisible force made him freeze. Unable to move, heart beating in his throat, he heard the cottage door open and Morgause and Agravaine approach. Morgause turned him around to face her and her lackey with a snap of her fingers.

"And who might you be, curious visitor?" she asked. Her face contorted with anger as he stubbornly refused to answer. "Did you really think I wasn't going to notice you, lurking out here? I felt your presence. I just thought you were a druid at first. But you didn't move around. You didn't even come in. And then you ran away. Who are you working for, boy?"

Her only answer was determined silence.

Her face contorted with anger. "Fine, two can play at this game!"

Then she dropped him on the floor. He felt life return to his limbs and immediately began to crawl away in a frantic attempt to escape the wrath of the sorceress. She began to fire hexes and curses at him, all of which he deflected. Her face twitched. She started becoming harder on him, but he weathered her storm well. Agravaine watched in stunned silence. Finally, he was able to recognize Merlin.

"W-wait! I think this is Arthur's servant! Merlin!" he yelled at last.

"Interesting," Morgause said. She attempted to freeze him again but he deflected the spell. Angry, she raised her again and dropped him unceremoniously to the floor. His entire body ached with pain and he suddenly couldn't concentrate. He might have suffered a concussion.

"How does a puny little servant," Morgause said. "Wield all this power? Who are you working for?"

Merlin could barely make out her words, much less respond. She was so much more powerful than he was.

"Pity," Morgause said, seeing his distress. "You could be a great fighter… but alas, the human body can only take so much. That is why I wear all these enchanted jewels," she said. Merlin was barely able to make out the plethora of rings and necklaces she wore. "For superhuman strength, speed, agility – you name it, I have the ring on me." She grinned. "I see you are wearing one for invisibility." She noticed, her eyes glinting greedily. She removed the ring from his finger and he was powerless to stop it – everything hurt so much. "If you move as much as a finger," she said. "You will regret it."

Merlin didn't doubt she would carry out the threat if he did. His mind reeled for something to do, an escape route, but he could come up with nothing. He was cornered.

"But I might let you go," Morgause said. "If you tell me who you're working for, and why."

"If I tell you, you'll just kill me," Merlin struggled to reply.

Morgause's face twitched. "I won't kill you," Morgause said. "You are a great and powerful sorcerer. If you swear allegiance to me and renounce your previous one, I will let you live. We need all the fighters we can get."

Merlin stared on impassively, lips pursed stubbornly.

"I SAID REPLY!" she bellowed, losing all patience. She hexed him and suddenly all his body parts started aching and he began writhing on the floor in pain.

"Morgause," Agravaine said softly, "Are you sure that's necessary?"

"Either he co-operates or he doesn't," Morgause snapped. "I do not have time to play games with a servant! Do with him what you will!"

Agravaine quickly approached Merlin and tried to gently coax information out of him. Was this their way of trying to get information out of him? One being the kind inquisitor, the other the evil one? If so, it was working – Merlin was almost tempted to open up to Agravaine in hope of some sort of support against the raging witch.

"Merlin," Agravaine said. "Our battle isn't against you. It's against who you're working for. Is it Arthur? Does he suspect me?"

Merlin could barely resist a derisive laughter.

Agravaine's face twitched with anger as well, but before he could continue, suddenly an older, blonde woman rode in on a white steed.

"What on Earth is happening!?" she snapped, looking from Agravaine to Morgause. She dismounted her horse and her face became contorted with shock, her eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, and began trembling wildly. "Unhand him, Agravaine! That is Emrys, the druid of legend to deliver us all from tyranny!"

Morgause and Agravaine stared at him disbelievingly.

The blonde woman sat down beside Emrys and began to heal him. "What have you done to him?!" she demanded, enraged.

Morgause carefully approached the scene. "How do you know who he is, Lady Vivian?"

"I've seen him in one of my visions," she snapped. "Quick, fetch some water!" Morgause refused to budge and so it was Agravaine that got up to bring some water. "And ointments, too, please, Agravaine, you know where to find them!"

"What have you done to him?" Lady Vivian said, aghast.

"He was spying on us," Morgause said. "I had to stop him."

"Did you nearly have to kill him too?"

"No, that was just one of the perks," Morgause snapped.

Lady Vivian glared at her. "I'm sorry," the black-haired woman said. "Let's bring him inside."

"It's better you stay far away from him," Lady Vivian snapped, raising a hand. Morgause deferentially stepped aside, looking contrite. "In any case, you'd better get going and mobilize the druids. They have arrested Morgana." The woman grinned.

Merlin wanted to budge, but Morgause quickly froze him again, her blue eyes flashing with disdain. "How do you know?" she asked, turning back to Vivian, eyes sparkling.

"Gaius told the King of the prophecy," Lady Vivian said. "And he believed him and arrested Morgana. I believe our little one," she turned back to Merlin, "was sent by Morgana to spy on you."

"Morgana?"

"Yes, yes, Apparently, according to Gaius, these two had an illicit liaison going throughout her marriage."

"Morgana with a servant!" Morgause laughed.

"And your sister suspected Agravaine of conspiring against the king and sent Emrys to spy on him," Lady Vivian said. "I'll bring him inside. I'll take care of him. I'll talk to him, make up for the damage you have caused, Morgause!"

"I am sorry, Mother," Morgause said deferentially.

 _Mother…?_ Merlin suddenly felt too dizzy to be able to think clearly.

"It doesn't matter now, Morgause," Lady Vivian snapped. "Just mobilize the druids. This is the moment you've been waiting for. Do not mess it up."

"I won't, Mother," Morgause promised. "Agravaine! Let's go!"

"And now," Lady Vivian said in a nauseatingly sweet voice, "you need to rest."

And the next thing Merlin knew was complete and total darkness.


	17. The Dungeons

_Chapter Seventeen_

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 **F** or the first time since Morgana had learned of the death of her parents, she felt like crying.

Sitting in the dungeons, chained to the wall like an animal, she willed the tears to come and wash away the pain, but all that came was heart-wrenching sadness. She once thought she had lost everything, but she had learned one could always lose more. She knew she was soon about to lose her head. But what for? All she had ever tried to do was help him. It felt so, so unfair. She had sacrificed her love and her own ambitions in order to further his own out of both love and compassion – hell, pity, even, perhaps. The poor little boy who had gotten the world but could do nothing with it. She had wanted to help him become the man she thought she had the potential of becoming. She wanted to help him achieve his dream and become a king to be remembered for centuries to come. Apparently, she had been wrong to think he could be helped – for in order to be saved, one had to want to be helped. Arthur did not. And there she had made a mistake.

So silly, so silly that after all these years of lies and deceit the one thing she had lost her crown for was trying to help and for loving the man now sentencing her to death.

Love, love… what was even the point to any of it?

Her life seemed so pointless in retrospect. Wasted years, wasted youth, never a happy moment except when she was with Merlin… so many people had died for her, only for her to be killed now before she had achieved even an ounce of what she had hoped to.

As she sat out to pray for forgiveness, she burst into tears. Loud, wailing sobs. She had spent her entire life repressing emotions she had been taught made her weak but at the end of her life, she could care no more for the teachings of others. She only cared about what she wanted.

As she was apologizing to her family them, she heard footsteps… footsteps she could tell apart from a hundred others after having lived with him for more than five years. It was Arthur, coming to gloat, surely. Perhaps he would finally explain what had come over him to act so foolishly as to imprison her. Perhaps there was still a chance to talk him out of it –

Steeling herself, she stopped crying and wiped away the tears from her face and the corners of her eyes. She straightened up in her seat and try to look at him with as much dignity as possible as he approached her.

"My King," she said. "What have you come for?"

Arthur didn't say anything, just looked at her in contemplation. "Morgana," he managed at last. He was choked with emotion – regret, anger, hatred…

Morgana grabbed the bars of her cage, her chains jingling in the air as she did so. Arthur finally looked into her eyes.

"Arthur, why are you doing this? What have I done to deserve this?" she begged to know.

"Like you don't know!" he snapped, his face contorted by rage, banging on the bars of her prison. Gasping, Morgana involuntarily, instinctively took a step back. "Going behind my back to discredit Agravaine because he saw right through you – coquetting behind my back with my servant!? Just who do you think you are!?" he demanded.

"Coquetting – with Merlin?" she laughed.

"Don't even try to deny it, Gaius told me everything! Your visits in the Astronomy Tower, in his room – your relationship beforehand! And if that weren't enough, you sent him on a mission to gather evidence on my uncle to discredit him! My uncle cares more for me than you ever will!"

Morgana suddenly didn't know how to react. "Your uncle sees you as a marionette that he can easily control. Just look at you – so emotional, so blind…"

"I just found my wife has been humiliating me since before our wedding!" Arthur snapped. "How the hell should I feel? Ecstatic? Or the fact that you're going behind my back to remove _my_ family from _my_ court? Should that make me happy too?

The problem with you, Morgana, is that you feel nothing. You feel nothing that makes you human – no kindness, no love… you possess none of the things that make a man fall in love!"

"And yet you still did," Morgana said.

"And I regret every minute of it," Arthur said.

"I know you don't," Morgana said, clinging to the bars again, lying for her life, lying through her teeth. "I know you still love me –"

"Like hell I do!" he yelled, but he was still standing there.

"And you know I love you too," Morgana said.

"Are you even capable of it?" Arthur asked, disgusted.

Morgana couldn't help but feel that Arthur was overreacting, but decided against commenting on it. "The reason I asked Merlin to spy on Agravaine was because I suspect him of desiring your throne. I never wanted your throne, all I have ever wanted was to help you become the King you're meant to be!" she cried. "I have done everything I could think of – through artists, I have tried to build a cult of personality around you and your reign, I have tried to aid you when you seemed lost –"

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" he screeched. Morgana's heart skipped a beat and her eyes widened in fear. She struggled to compose herself, and so did he. "I – I don't need your help," he said. "Because all you do is try to control me. You and father both. You should have been the King, Father would have been thrilled," he said with a rueful laugh. "But you aren't. And you couldn't get used to the thought."

"Do you hear yourself, Arthur?" Morgana pleaded. "I really did love you. But you just had to ruin it, didn't you? Your insecurity – your jealousy – I – I never once cheated on you –" tears began streaming down her cheeks. The time for humility was over. She could clearly see now that the King was set in his opinion and there was no changing his heart. If she went down, she would go down fighting and not begging for her life like a coward. "All I have done was to try to help you but you are so blinded by emotion that you blame me for your shortcomings because you cannot deal with them! I am sorry you can't make decisions to save your life.

I am sorry you were such a lousy son that your father turned against his own flesh and blood in my favor – that his last wish was for me to marry you so I could save you from your own stupidity!" she spat.

"ENOUGH!" Arthur screamed. "You've sealed your Fate. You're going to die. Tomorrow, at dawn."

Morgana cackled. "As if! You know yourself that you've come here knowing you were going to sentence me to death before I even opened my mouth. I don't know why you would decide to believe an old fool or an ambitious snake over your own wife –"

"Because they," he yelled, "didn't marry me in hopes of using my armies to regain their lost throne and didn't make a deal with my father behind my back!"

"You made that deal as well," Morgana said. "Why then?"

"My father didn't make it sound like a deal to me," Arthur said. "I honestly thought you –" you loved me. "Never mind," he said at last, "I really tried, Morgana. But it goes to show… a snake can shed its skin as many times as she wants but she will still remain a snake."

"I love you!" she screamed. "I never cheated on you and I never conspired against you." Tears were streaming down her face.

"I really tried, Morgana, I really did. I tried to love you – I felt pity for you – after all that you've been through, I wanted to be the one to save you –"

 _You and your hero complex,_ Morgana thought disgustedly.

"But you cannot be saved from your own evil,"

"I am not evil!" she screamed. "All I've done – I did for love and for my family –"

The exact words Gaius had used, Arthur thought.

"And that is precisely the problem," Arthur said.

"Loving my family is the problem?" Morgana said.

Arthur just shook his head. "I cannot make you understand," he said. "I am sorry this ended this way. I had… hopes for us. High hopes. But you ruined them all."

"I ruined nothing, you are the one sentencing me to death!"

"I have to protect my kingdom no matter the cost," Arthur said. "Surely someone as ambitious as you will understand that."

Morgana's face contorted with utter hatred, her eyes glinting with rage. Spit flew out of her mouth as she spoke, "You will go to hell, Arthur Pendragon."

"Then I'll see you there when I finally get there," he said nonchalantly, "Goodbye, Morgana."

Morgana went crazy with rage. "AGRAVAINE WILL BETRAY YOU, ARTHUR! I'M JUST SAID I WON'T BE THERE TO SEE IT! AND GAIUS – EITHER HE IS AN IDIOT OR HE'S WORKING WITH HIM AGAINST YOU! I SWEAR TO GOD, ARTHUR –"

But the King paid her no mind, ascended the stairs leading out of the dungeons, leaving her there to rot in her cell for the rest of her short life.


	18. The Seer

_Chapter Eighteen_

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 **M** erlin woke with a groggy head and blurred vision. All his limbs were aching terribly and it took for a few moments for his vision to clear.

"Here, drink this," a kind, feminine voice said – Lady Vivian – extending a goblet towards him. Merlin snapped it away.

"I don't want anything from you!" he declared.

Lady Vivian pursed her lips. "Very well," she said at last, "I understand the sentiment. I presume I would be feeling pretty hostile against my captor, especially the treatment you have received from my daughter and her accomplice."

"She is your daughter?" Merlin couldn't help but ask.

"Well… it's a figure of speech, so to say. There is no bond of blood between us, you see. I found her the day her sister left her to die as they were running away from a band of ruffians. As they were about to violate her, I heard her screams and decided to intervene."

"You have magic too?" Merlin asked. There were so many questions on his mind but this was the first one he had blurted out.

"And so did she," Lady Vivian said with a fond smile. "I didn't need to intervene. Morgause used her powers to get rid of the ruffians on her own. In a fit of righteous rage, she killed all of them and took their possessions. I found her heaving, covered in blood, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I ran up to her and hugged her, and on that day, our friendship began. She was just 16. She had lost all of her family. I took her in and raised her on my own. She came to love me as a mother, and I her as a daughter."

Merlin couldn't help but be moved by this part of the story.

"I – Morgana – we all thought she had died," Merlin said. "Had Morgana known, she would have definitely come to search for her sister. This is unfair to her! If she had known –"

"Sssh, Merlin," Lady Vivian said. "You're still very weak after Morgause's spell. I can prepare you another broth –"

"I don't need anything from you!" Merlin snapped stubbornly.

Lady Vivian took a deep breath. "Alright, then," she said. "Do you want me to proceed with the story?"

Merlin and Lady Vivian stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Merlin said. "You can't let her kill Morgana," he said. "She's done _nothing._ "

"Morgause doesn't want to kill her, as you might have heard… depending on what they were talking about," Lady Vivian said, averting her gaze, "she just wants her to renounce her claim to the throne."

"She is never going to do that," Merlin countered.

"She might," Lady Vivian said, looking him straight in the eye. "After all, Gaius told me she planned to run away with you, didn't she?"

"How do you know Gaius?" Merlin asked, deflecting.

"Gaius and I have been friends for a long time," she replied, "ever since before the Great Purge. But no one suspects what I truly am. My powers developed late, well after the Purge, and I knew to keep them secret. Gaius knows because I told him of my secret. He is a great man."

"H-how does Morgause have magical powers?" he asked. "Does she have ancestors who were…?"

Lady Vivian laughed. "Well, that is an interesting question, and one difficult to answer," she replied. "You see… I do not know whether or not Gaius has told you about his little love, Catherine."

"Yes," Merlin said. "But, I mean, well not much… I didn't even know she was called Catherine. Wait – wasn't Catherine also the name of…?" Merlin's eyes widened in disbelief.

"You are catching on," Lady Vivian said, smiling amusedly. "Yes, Catherine was also the name of Morgana and Morgause's mother. And yes, Gaius's great love and the Queen Mother of Cornwall were one and the same."

"That – that's impossible," Merlin found it hard to wrap his head around it. "Gaius told me they broke it off eventually –"

"Well, Gaius didn't tell you the whole story then," Lady Vivian said, thinking Gaius had probably omitted a few details in an attempt to discourage Merlin from pursuing his interest in Morgana. "They never could quit each other. Till Catherine's death, the two kept seeing each other. Two times, she wasn't quite sure whose child she carried under her heart. She was quite sure Mordred was Gorlois's son as she and Gaius didn't see each other around that time. But Morgause and Morgana… that's a whole different story."

Merlin stared at her as though she were a demon. "No – that is –"

"You wanted the truth so now I am giving it to you," Lady Vivian said, slightly losing patience. "At least hear me out before you denounce all my words as lies."

"Sorry," Merlin mumbled out of habit, then cursed himself for apologizing to his captor.

Lady Vivian smiled slightly.

Then Merlin said, "Please," he said. "You cannot let this madness go on. You cannot let it continue. You cannot let two sisters kill each other. They're all they've got left: each other."

Lady Vivian sighed. "I told you Morgause has no desire to kill her – unless she refuses her claim to the throne."

"But why does she want the throne so bad?"

"Put yourself in her shoes. You're shunted to the side in favor of your younger sister despite being before her in the line of succession. The two of you are shipped off to relative safety from the suspected invasion that in the end unfortunately did take place. Your entire family is massacred, and you die for her as well."

"She asked to be left behind!"

"She did. In hope of Morgana doing something – anything – to get back the throne that rightfully belonged to them. But Morgana did nothing. She failed them."

"Morgana tried –"

"Yes, she did marry Arthur, but… she wasn't very successful doing anything, was she? Morgause feels that Gorlois had misjudged Morgana and that she is a better fit for the throne. I cannot say I disagree."

Merlin suddenly couldn't say she did either.

"But Morgana –"

"Morgana tried her best," Lady Vivian said. "Not everyone is meant to be Queen."

"She would have succeeded if it weren't for you!" Merlin accused.

"But if it weren't for us, someone else would have come to take the throne," Lady Vivian said. "The point is – she tried and she failed. And Morgause now wants what is rightfully hers. Merlin, pardon me saying but… I truly don't understand you. There's this woman whom you've been involved with for barely even a year and you're willing to do anything for her –"

"She wants what's best for the kingdom!"

"She wants what's best for herself," Lady Vivian replied, "as we all do. Wouldn't you prefer to live with her… far away from everything… together, as you have planned? I'm sure once this is all over, that is all she would want to do as well."

"You don't know her like I do," Merlin said. "She'll never give up the throne."

"Then she will die," Lady Vivian said coldly, blue eyes unfeeling. "Do you want her to die, Merlin?"

Merlin remained silent, but his eyes betrayed him.

"Then help me convince her to stay away from the throne," Lady Vivian said. "And live with you, far away, somewhere else… as you've wanted, before… this mistake of a marriage happened and all went to hell."

Merlin felt tempted, he couldn't deny it. He swallowed hard.

"A happy family," she said. "That's all you've ever wanted. And deep down, that's all she really wants, too. Doing what she did… she only did for her family."

"How would you know that?"

"I'm a Seer, Merlin," Lady Vivian said. "I see more things than I care to. I know more things than I care to. I have dreams… nightmares… good dreams… I see other people's dreams, I see their memories, and I see their futures in my head as well. I know Morgana more than you could possibly imagine."

"You're lying,"

"I'm not lying, Emrys," Lady Vivian said.

"Emrys – I've heard that name before," Merlin said. "The savior of the druids, of all magical folk. If you truly think I am Emrys, then you're deluded and all your visions are wrong."

"I am done with this!" Merlin announced suddenly. He raised his hands to attack and free himself. When nothing happened, he attempted to hex Lady Vivian again, but to no avail. "What have you done to me?"

Lady Vivian smiled viciously. The façade of a kind and loving woman popped like a soap bubble. "I fed you a broth in your sleep," she said. "For 24 hours, you'll not be able to use your magical powers."

Merlin, enraged, stood up to attack her with his bare hands, but with a swish of her hands Lady Vivian sent the servant boy flying against the walls of her cottage. Merlin would have sworn he heard something crack. Back hurting impossibly, he sank to the floor helplessly.

Lady Vivian stood up. "Rethink my offer, Merlin. Not only will you have the woman you desire but I'll lead you to greatness."

"I desire no greatness!"

"How noble. But you shall, once you have tasted it. Join our forces with Morgause and we will rule the Five Kingdoms, and we shall shape it to our liking. You are a good person, the kind that only comes around every century or so. That is why you were given the powers you were, Emrys. Use them well, and use them wisely, and stand on the right side of history and don't let men like Uther or Arthur decide your fate anymore. Be one of the greats, and shape history to create a better world. The choice is yours, Merlin. And so is the responsibility if you say no."

And without another world, Lady Vivian was already out the door.


	19. The Siege of Camelot

_Chapter Nineteen_

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 **M** eanwhile, the druid armies were advancing, led by Morgause and Agravaine. They were chanting and singing their songs they had composed as they had been forced to live in hiding, waiting for the day of their liberation. While some druid leaders had refused cooperation, objecting to her methods, saying they would wait for Emrys instead, Morgause had managed to convince many of them that she was in fact their true savior and no further waiting was needed. Others simply joined because they were tired of waiting for the savior they didn't believe would ever come.

Morgause grinned to herself. I have done more in these five years than Morgana has done all her life, she thought. And yet she still didn't hate her. She didn't desire her death. She just wanted some form of punishment. She wanted to balance the scale. She had spent the past five years doing justice to the memory of her parents while all Morgana had done was party it up in the royal court of Camelot while she struggled to mobilize forces to actually complete the task her parents had entrusted her with: the two stayed behind to avoid suspicion so they could get away. They sacrificed themselves so she and Morgana could live. And Morgana had squandered that gift of life while she had made the best of it. She was about to repay her parents' sacrifice.

And as to why she hadn't try to re-establish contact with Morgana? Firstly, because she wasn't sure whether she had made it to the castle or not. When she had learned through Lady Vivian that Morgana had in fact survived, much to the Lady's surprise she did not want to rejoin her sister. Jealousy had always tainted her soul and she had always thought her younger sister unworthy of the throne. She wanted to see what Morgana would amount to without her. She wanted to plot without her and prove that she was better. She wanted to put an end to a lifetime of living in her shadow and make her own way in life. And she was so glad she had.

She was to become the next Queen of Camelot and Cornwall, soon, as well. They had made a pact with Agravaine: he could rule Camelot alongside, but only alongside her, and once she had regained Cornwall, she would let him be. Not that she planned on doing any of that. Agravaine was a fool, just a pawn in her game, a tool to get what she wanted, because he had a claim to the throne. That would bequeath most rebellions for the time being, giving her time to concentrate on Cornwall. After she had regained Cornwall, she would get rid of Agravaine and rule both kingdoms together. She would be the greatest ruler in the history of the British Isles, she, her father's least favorite child, the one he always shunted to the side and ignored… she would prove to both of her parents that she was more than what they had believed her to be, and she was worth more than both her siblings combined – the brother who had run away and the sister who had amounted to nothing, left to her own devices.

Today was the day she had been waiting for for so long.

And she would not let anything come in her way of achieving glory.

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Arthur was sitting in his study, poring over all of Morgana's things. Most of it were plans against the Saxons and plans for society events. But one paper struck out the most to him: the one entitled "Ideas to save marriage" below which several innocuous ideas were jotted down. Despite what Arthur said, he was still struggling with the thought of executing his wife, and wanted absolute proof of her treachery (ones seen with his own eyes) before deciding upon her fate. His father might have executed women and children left and right, but he wasn't intent on following his legacy. He wished he could ask his father for advice, but all Uther did these days was stare out the window of his room and when asked questions he no longer even recalled his own name.

He was also beginning to wonder where Agravaine was. He had promised to return after lunch. Apparently the meeting with his mistress had gone on longer than expected, he thought with a chuckle.

as suddenly two guards burst into his study. He stood up, affronted, and demanded to know the reason for the insolent intrusion. The two guards promptly bowed and apologized profusely.

"There are forces approaching, Sire," one of the guards said, "not friendly forces."

"Saxons?"

"They wear no banner. They are chanting songs in the Ancient Language and coming on horseback. They aren't all that numerous – but they're using magic."

Arthurs heart skipped a beat. "Magic? Who is leading their forces?"

The guards exchanged worrisome glances. Neither wanted to be the bearer of bad news. Finally one of them spoke up, "Agravaine, sire." They didn't even let Arthur process his initial shock before proceeding, "And someone else, sire. A woman. We don't know who she is."

"Let me see!" Arthur demanded. He needed to see Agravaine and that woman with his own eyes. He needed to… he couldn't believe that Agravaine had betrayed him. They were… they were family.

The guards again exchanged glances.

"I said show me!" he bellowed at them, and the guards scurried to obey his orders. "Bring me my armor!" he yelled at one, who nodded and excused himself with a bow before running to get one of the servants. _I am going to fight,_ Arthur decided. He wasn't going to run away like a coward.

For all the criticism that had ever befallen Arthur Pendragon, no one had ever accused him of being a coward or an unskilled soldier.

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Meanwhile, Morgana became aware of the general chaos and panic in the castle that had even reached the dungeons. She demanded from the guards to be told the cause for the general strife, however, all her questions went ignored. The guards were then called away to the dungeons to fight.

Morgana's heart was beating furiously against her chest. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself. Had Agravaine already begun carrying out a coup d'etat…? Was it the Saxons? Was it both? Had Agravaine conspired against Arthur the same way her own uncle had against her father? Morgana began pacing as much as her chains would allow. She dragged at her chains, feeling like a caged animal wanting to be freed. Her rage suddenly left her to be replaced by crippling fear and sadness. No, she didn't want to be stuck inside a castle taken over by savage forces. Even hanging seemed a preferable fate to that. She had heard too many horror stories to be naïve about what would happen if a bunch of men raided the castle and found her here, a lone, unprotected woman…

She kept dragging at her chains. No. NO! She would not allow that to happen. She needed to escape. She was beginning to give up, tears streaming down her cheeks, when she heard a familiar voice call her name. She whirled around to see if she was right – and she was – it was Gaius.

"Why are you here!?" she demanded, a flare of anger igniting in her chest again. "What is happening!?" But then there were more important things then personal animosities in such a time. She would take all the help she could get – if he had even come here in her aid at all.

"Morgana," he repeated, his blue eyes watery, his lips trembling, a pitiful, look lost about him as he dangled a keychain in his hand. "I have come to apologize profusely. You were – you were right about Agravaine –"

"Of course I was," Morgana snapped, but there was no hatred in her voice. She sighed, all the anger leaving her to be replaced by pure determination. "Why are you here, Gaius?" she asked, glancing at the keychain, eyes glinting beadily.

"I've come to apologize," he said, "and tell you something about you that no one has ever told you."

Morgana's eyes widened. "Tell me," she prompted.

Gaius nodded. He pocketed the keychain, much to her dismay, and took out a few pieces of parchment from the inside pocket of his robe. Morgana gulped hard, preparing herself for what was to follow. "These were letters from your mother, Morgana," Gaius said. "Letters to me. About you." She took the letters from his hands, trembling with excitement, mind reeling.

"What? How?"

"This is her handwriting!" Morgana exclaimed in joy, heart feeling fuzzy despite everything at the physical reminder that her mother had existed. Reading her words suddenly felt like she was in the room with her. "This is…" but the smile promptly faded from her lips. "No, this – this cannot be true! NO!" she cried.

"Read the whole thing, Morgana," Gaius said, pained, but patient.

Struggling with her emotions, Morgana took Gaius's advice and read all of the letters from beginning to end. She fell to her knees to the floor, the emotional turmoil inside her so great the pain of falling to the cold, hard floor with her frail knees barely registered. Today was the first day since the death of her parents that she had allowed herself to cry. And cry, she did. Tears were once again streaming down her face as she began to shake uncontrollably. She didn't have the power in herself to protest what was written on the parchments Gaius had handed her. She looked up at him, still collapsed on the floor, eyes sparkling with tears, and said, "You are my father, Gaius?"

Gaius nodded. "I am," he said, and his blue eyes began to sparkle with tears too. "I am, I am, I am," Gaius kneeled down on the floor in front of her to be level with her. Their gazes locked and didn't leave the other's as they talked, father and daughter reuniting after a lifetime spent apart. "I am so, so, sorry, Morgana," he said, "to have failed you as my last act as a father. To sacrifice you for the good of Camelot."

"What have I done wrong, Gaius!?" she demanded. "I didn't cheat on Arthur, nor do I wish to see him fail! I did have my reasons for marrying him, but I stayed with him out of love, not out of gain. I could have easily conspired with Agravaine to overthrow him, knowing how easily manageable Arthur was and what Agravaine's ambitions truly were." Gaius looked pained. "He is against Camelot, Gaius! Agravaine wants to see Arthur fail!"

"I know, I know," he admitted at last, much to Morgana's surprise. "His armies are attacking the Castle right now."

Morgana's lips parted in shock. Then her eyes lit up with a new will to live. "Then that's it! I was right! Let me out!"

"I can't," Gaius said, looking contrite.

"Why?" Morgana said, banging against the bars in frustration. Gaius leaned back slightly to not feel the shaking of the bars. "I have proved myself in regards to Agravaine! Do you still not believe me about Merlin? Ask him! You know he lies about as well as a –"

"It's not my job to decide whether or not you have cheated on your husband,"

"Then why are you not letting me out!?"

"I have come to apologize, Morgana," Gaius repeated irritably. "For failing you. Not to undo what must be done. But as you are my daughter, I wanted you to know the reason for your demise. There is a prophecy written about you, detailing your plans to overthrow Camelot and being its ruin."

"What prophecy!?"

Gaius fished inside his robes for another piece of parchment then handed it to Morgana. Morgana took it impatiently and read it over immediately:

 _A bastard borne from a woman under the full moon of the winter_

 _From a foreign land shall come to seek revenge for past wrongs_

 _Marry an ambitious man she takes for a fool to achieve her own ends_

 _Whom she shall constantly betray in all ways a queen can betray a king_

 _She shall ignite fire in the hearts of men and call them to war by her side_

 _So her lover, she may defeat_

 _When you see Camelot is surrounded by armies_

 _Know that desolation is near_

 _For these are the days of vengeance,_

 _And at last, all is fulfilled_

Morgana angrily crumpled the piece of paper in her hands. "This? This is the reason you're wrongfully imprisoning me?"

"You are the only one this prophecy can be applied to," Gaius exclaimed. "You come from a foreign land, borne of an illicit liaison –"

"You don't know that for sure – neither did my mom – and I did not cheat on Arthur, I did not –"

"The fact that you keep repeating that says otherwise," Gaius said.

"I keep repeating that I am innocent because you're accusing me falsely! Besides, who wrote this? Why would you believe that person? Don't you think she might have lied to you, or that this isn't going to happen right now, or –"

But Gaius was done explaining himself.

"I am sorry, daughter," the physician only said. "Just know that even though we did not spend much time together, I loved you. I did not want to interfere in your life, thinking you would be ashamed to have a common man as your father. I see now that I was wrong. I hope that you shall find peace."

Without another word, Gaius left, refusing to look back at the daughter he left behind even as she screamed, "You are even worse than Gorlois. At least he let me _live_."

And what a life it had been, Gaius thought as he exited the dungeons for the last time in his life.


	20. The Final Fight

_Chapter Twenty_

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" **R** espect existence, or expect resistance!" the army chanted loudly as they approached.

Arthur could see them advancing from the top of the watchout towers. In their wake, they made trees levitate and the wind howl and threw balls of fire seemingly out of thin air. Arthur's heart skipped several beats, then sped up so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts above the sound of his erratically beating heartbeat.

At the head of the army marched Agravaine and another, unknown woman. Was this his mistress? Arthur's eye caught Agravaine's.

"FIRE!" Agravaine cried, and several balls of fire were fired in his direction. Arthur instinctively ducked then cowered behind the stone wall of the lookout, beginning to tremble.

 _I've been wrong about everything,_ he thought. _Morgana was right._

He swallowed hard, swallowing his pride with the rising bile of disgust at his uncle's comportment as he did so. Who was that woman with him? Were these druids?

"Sire," one of the guards finally spoke to him, his eyes sparkling with fear, "what do we do now?"

His father's words rang in his ears. _A King knows when to lose a battle to win the war._

"We have no chance," Arthur said. "We have to retreat –"

"But the Castle, Sire –"

"I said, 'retreat!'" Arthur bellowed. "Take _everyone_ with you! Meet me in the woods behind the castle near the stream – do you all know it!"

"Yes, Sire," the guards said in unison.

"Meet me there," he said. "Make sure everyone evacuates! Leave no one behind!"

The guards nodded and dispersed at his command. Two guards stayed behind to ensure he got to safety, but sent them away as he ran down to the dungeons to free Morgana, consumed by guilt. If she had been honest about Agravaine, perhaps she had also been honest when it came to her relationship with Merlin… after all, he had found that slip of parchment on which she had compiled ways to save their marriage… maybe, maybe she wasn't so mal-intentioned after all –

Could the prophecy be false then? Could Gaius truly be working with his enemies? He felt rage ignite within him. Where was the old man now?

On his way to the dungeons, Arthur found Gaius struggling to ascend the stairs leading out of the dungeon. "Sire, what is happening? I heard everyone run off but no one told me what's happening – have the Saxons come? Who has she mobilized?" He was still sure whatever had happened was Morgana's doing. An avid practitioner of magic, and an old friend of Lady Vivian, he had full confidence in the accuracy of the Lady's prophecies and her interpretations thereof.

"As if you don't know!" Arthur said, letting rage take over. He grabbed Gaius by the neck of his robe and pushed him against the wall. Gaius began trembling uncontrollably like a leaf in a storm, his eyes filled with fear. He looked like he really didn't understand what was going on, but was too afraid to talk. Feeling ashamed, Arthur lowered him to the ground, taking the chain of keys from him and rushing to free Morgana.

"I really don't understand what's happening, Sire," Gaius said, his voice trembling, rooted to the spot, still shaking. Arthur didn't know who or what to believe anymore.

"Arthur," Morgana whispered, shocked, as her old friend neared her cell, the keychain jingling in his hands.

"I've come to free you," he said as he unlocked her cell. "I am sorry, I am so sorry – you were right about him – Agravaine, I mean –" He opened the door and Morgana stepped outside. They looked at each other expectantly, Morgana wanting to hug him and Arthur, for some reason, expecting that hug, but Morgana suppressed the urge finally and turned away.

"What!? Agravaine is behind this?!" Gaius interjected. "But – but Lady Vivian –"

"I think it's safe to say we can forget about Lady Vivian at this point," Morgana snapped. "She's either an idiot or she's working with Agravaine."

"How would she know Agravaine?" Arthur asked.

"How would she not? Don't you see? Agravaine wanted me removed and so she had me removed. It's all too big of a coincidence –"

"But it's still a stretch –"

"No, I think she's probably right," Gaius said. "It's all – it's all so –" he collapsed onto the floor, powerlessly, seeming like nothing more than an old man, gone the aura of power and wisdom from around him. Morgana's heart wrenched with pity. "I've made a terrible mistake…" he said, his voice weak, all his strength having left him.

"If they're advancing, we have to get out of here," Morgana said. Arthur nodded frantically. "Gaius, you have to use your magic," said the girl, turning to him in desperation. The two of them ascended the stairs to where Gaius was and helped him up from the floor.

"M-my magic?" the man stammered. "But I haven't used it in so long –"

"Gaius, you have to think of something," Morgana begged. "We're up against magic, and the only way out of here –"

There was much commotion.

"Why are the soldiers here?" Morgana asked. "They're supposed to be protecting the castle –"

"I told them not to," Arthur said. "I told them all to run."

"What for?" Morgana scoffed. "You should have told them to hold off!"

"To send them to certain death?"

Morgana glared at him.

"Well, it's too late now," Morgana said as a curse flew past her. "Gaius… break us out of here. Portal us out of here. Please, do something."

"I – I can't –" Gaius stammered, raising his hands and trying to cast an incantation to no avail.

"You're not even trying!" Morgana snapped. "Come on, Gaius!"

Meanwhile, Arthur had taken a sword from the body of a fallen soldier nearby and tried to ward off all those who came too close. Gaius and Morgana had to constantly duck to avoid hexes. Arthur's fine clothes and white face were splattered with blood. Not all the druids could cast spells apparently, or perhaps they had already tired; some were only coming at them with swords and other weapons, all of whom Arthur easily defeated.

"I TOLD YOU, DON'T HURT THE CIVILIANS!" a harsh female voice cried. "WE'RE ONLY HERE FOR THE KING AND THE QUEEN!"

Arthur, Morgana and Gaius all turned in the direction of the voice. They became immobilized with shock and fear.

"N-no…" Morgana whispered. "That can't be…"

"Is that your – she looks like – is that your –?" Arthur asked. The resemblance was truly uncanny.

"Hello, sister," Morgause said with a coy smile. "It's nice to see you again."

"I thought – I thought you were – Morgause, I –"

"Don't I even get a hug from my little sister?" Morgause said, walking coyly towards them. Arthur readied himself, causing the woman to laugh. "Are you seriously going to try to stop me with that puny little sword?" She flicked her hand and Arthur's sword flew to the side. Arthur was left weaponless, and he and his friends defenseless. "I'm a High Priestess, and you're but a mere man. You have no way to stop me."

Morgana stood shell-shocked. She would have rushed to hug her last remaining relative relative, but she did not recognize the woman in front of her.

"Oh, Arthur Pendragon," Morgause laughed. "I have heard tales of your bravery… but it's bordering stupidity at this point, don't you think? Get out of my way. Let me talk to my dear sister."

Arthur stubbornly refused to move.

"Do you think you'll fist fight me?" she laughed. She raised her hands again and Arthur was swept to the side, dead or not, she really did not care. Agravaine would deal with him later. Arthur didn't concern her any more than a minor inconvenience on her way to glory.

"What do you want from me?" Morgana asked, gripping Gaius's hand.

"Ah, I see you've met our sorry excuse of a father," Morgause said. "Gives a whole new meaning to deadbeat if you ask me."

Gaius was still trying to create a portal, but Morgause just laughed at his attempts.

"I just want to talk," Morgause said. "I will let you live, sister, if you renounce your claim to the throne – are you willing to do that? To maintain peace?"

Morgana swallowed hard. That was the last thing she was willing to do to the woman standing in front of her.

"You need not be afraid of me, Morgana… We are not enemies… We are just siblings…"

"Let us go, Morgause," she said, her mind reeling for something to say. "And I won't ever come back."

Gaius created a spark with his hands, at which Morgause swished her hand and he crashed into the wall in front of him. He emitted a low groan and fell to the floor lifelessly. Did he – did she just – what –

"What have you done!?" Morgana cried, kneeling down beside the barely breathing form of Gaius. "He's old and he cannot take it –"

Morgause's eyebrows twitched irritably. She was dangerously close now – there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Morgause was only a few steps away from her, towering above her, and they were surrounded by her army – all those on their side have already fled or lay near them, dead.

"What have you done?" she whispered, aghast. "Why did you have to do this, sister?"

"Some of us have to fight for the things the likes of you and Arthur Pendragon take for granted," Morgause said coldly. "The throne. That is all I want. If you both renounce it, Agravaine and I will leave you alone."

Morgana stared at Morgause, mind reeling. She could tell from Morgause's face that something was amiss. No, Morgana thought, she won't let me live even if I sign away my throne. She will just ensure I die later and make it seem like an accident.

"I – I –" Morgana said, seeing no way out of this situation. Her sister was the toughest opponent she had come across in her adult life. "I'll sign it. I'll sign it." She had to say this to appease her momentarily as she wrecked her brain for a way out of this.

Morgause smirked slightly. "I always knew you would come around, sister,"

Morgana, on a sudden idea, grabbed the sword by Arthur's side and pierced it through Morgause's chest despite being barely able to lift it. The attack had come so unexpected the Morgause had failed to deflect in, but promptly removed the sword from herself with her bare hands much to Morgana's shock and began healing the hole in her chest.

"Wrong move," Morgause said, as she raised her hand to attack, lifting her and throwing her to the ground. Morgana was in terrible pain, but still alive. "I'm going to enjoy killing you… sister," she spat, repulsed as her sister writhed on the floor and coughed up blood pathetically. She raised her hand to toy around with Morgana before delivering the coup de grace when suddenly she was shunted to the side unceremoniously. Morgana could barely sit up, but even through her vision, blurred by pain, she could make out the approaching figure… MERLIN!

All Morgause's army lay on the floor, having fainted from the impact of the young warlock's blow.

And then the world went blank for Morgana.

"Aren't you a nuisance?" Morgause mumbled under her breath, barely audibly, clambering to her feet, healing the wound in her chest fully, looking like a savage animal. All Merlin heard was her next question: "You managed to escape, impressive. But how?" her arms were raised in a defensive stance, ready to unleash an attack anytime.

Merlin adapted the same position, and the two began to circle each other like two gladiators in an arena. "Lady Vivian's potion wasn't as potent as she had hoped."

 _Or perhaps you're stronger than anything the world has ever seen before,_ she thought, shocked to the core. All she said was: "Emrys," Morgause said. "I see you've made the wrong choice. We are not enemies. We don't have to be. Name whatever you want – is it her? is it my sister? Do you love her? You can have her. I don't mind. We're both on the right side – we both want justice for our kind – sorcerers and sorceresses who have been cast aside –"

"You want vengeance," Merlin said. "You want blood. You are not on the right side of this war or of history. Hatred never triumphs for long."

Morgause, who deep down didn't share Lady Vivian's concerns about having this Emrys of myth on their side, gave up trying to convince him immediately. "As you wish," she said.

A battle began – all the four elements and all hexes and curses and protective charms imaginable were used. For much of the time, Morgause dominated the battle, mostly thanks to her experience and her frequent usage of magic, from which Merlin refrained from in the Castle for fear of detection. But in the end, raw power triumphed over technique – as he was about to lose and saw in front of him the corpses of all those whom he loved, his kingdom fallen to hatred and fear, his non-magical friends persecuted – he could not bear it – from the desire to protect those whom he loved, he gathered enough strength to deal Morgause one final blow, which, despite all her protective charms, sent her flying through the wall of the Castle.

Unable to believe the extent of his own power and hurting all over, Merlin struggled to regain his composure and get to his feet. Once he did, he limped over to the unmoving bodies of his loved ones, and grabbing a piece of their clothing, he conjured just enough strength to portal them into the depth of the forest, which was now empty of druids.

Once on the plain, he felt all the remainder of his strength leave him and he collapsed beside his friends. He had done all that he could. Now they just needed a little luck to survive, God willing.


	21. The End

_Epilogue_

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 **M** organa began to stir at sundown, panicked. She suddenly had no idea how she had ended up on a plain – her last memory had been nearly dying at the hands of her sister, thought dead for the past half of a decade. Her back began to ache terribly, and she realized she must have sustained severe injuries – she was barely able to move.

Then she saw Merlin lying with the rest of them. She burst into a grin and the sides of her eyes began to sparkle with tears. She managed to extend her hand to poke Merlin several times (she did not have the strength to sit up), who eventually awoke. His eyes focused on him, and he grinned at her, and she grinned back, and they stared at each other for so long they eventually burst into relieved, delirious laughter. They had lived through an ordeal, but they survived, and were finally safe – Merlin grabbed his hand and began kissing it, finally free of Camelot, of kingship, both of them forgetting themselves –

To the sound of their laughter, Arthur and Gaius began to stir. Merlin immediately got up and began tending to the physician. He raised Gaius head to put it on his lap, and the old man began to cough painfully and slowly, seemingly with great effort, opened his blue eyes.

"Merlin…" His voice was hoarse and raspy. "I am so glad to have known you…" he said, raising a frail hand to cup his apprentice's face.

Tears swelled in Merlin's eyes.

"No – no – Gaius – let me – I can help –" the young warlock's hands began to glow blue as he attempted to heal Gaius's wounds, but he was so distressed he found his spells to be barely working.

"You don't have to try, Gaius. I know the extent of magic and I am so close to death even the supernatural cannot save me now."

"No – don't – don't say that –" Merlin sobbed, sniffling.

Morgana was finally able to gather the strength to sit up and crawled closer to the physician. "Gaius…" she managed powerlessly.

"Morgana…" Gaius said, the smile on his lips widening. "Come here, daughter…"

Morgana managed to sit up and sat on Gaius's other side.

"I am so glad to have known you…" Gaius said, and Morgana too began to cry. "Don't cry, my child… I don't deserve your tears… I have hurt you in an attempt to save a kingdom, wrongfully thinking you to be the foe… I have been absent all your life… forgive me, please, child, forgive me… that is all I ask… you to pardon the follies of an old man who should have long ago removed himself from politics…"

Morgana grabbed Gaius's other hand firmly, sobbing uncontrollably, her face red and eyes bloodshot. "Of course I forgive you, Gaius…" there was nothing she could have said to a dying man.

"And I am sorry… I couldn't save your mother… that I couldn't save you… and I am sorry that all I have caused was trouble in your life…"

"You didn't mean for any of it to happen," Merlin said. "You were guided by the best intentions. Don't blame yourself…"

"Oh, but the road to hell is paved with the best of intentions, Merlin," Gaius said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You were like a son to me, Merlin. I shall never forget your kindness and your goodness. It is a rare gift in this world, even though it may seem like a burden to some. Never lose it. It is what makes you, you."

Merlin nodded frantically, and began kissing Gaius's hand as tears streamed down his cheeks. Morgana just held his in her hands, caressing his cheeks. Gaius took one good look at Merlin, then turned over to Morgana, as though trying to memorize their faces for the afterlife.

"I forgive you… I forgive you…" Morgana whispered softly. "Father."

Gaius's smile nearly reached his ears.

Then he closed his eyes forever. The smile would forever be carved on his face. He died happy.

"NO! NO!" Morgana screamed. Merlin gingerly placed Gaius's head on the floor and clambered beside Morgana to hug him to himself and they cried together softly as the man whom had been a better man than either of their fathers lay in front of them lifelessly.

Suddenly, the two became aware of a pair of eyes burning into their skin. Arthur sat upright a few steps from them, watching them with an indescribable expression on his face. Morgana wanted to disentangle herself for Merlin, but Merlin resisted, staring at Arthur testily, and Morgana let him keep her pressed against his chest, not without looking guiltily at her husband, in whose eyes tears had swelled. Finally, the dethroned king swallowed hard and looked away, at the Castle in the distance as the sun set over it.

Truly, it was the end of an era.

And Arthur might have stood up, might have gone away, spat at the two of them disgustedly, wonder Morgana had betrayed him or not, but in that moment, it didn't matter –

Merlin had portaled them to the exact clearing beside a lake where he had told the soldiers to assemble. No one had come. He had no one left. His family were either dead or against him. So it was the same for Morgana. And the only family Merlin had ever had was Gaius.

They only had each other left in the world.

Morgana, feeling torn and her heart beating in her chest, finally disentangled herself from Merlin. Then finally she caught his eye, and they gazed at each other longingly, he was able to see that she still loved him, and was ashamed to love two at the same time. Arthur turned away with a slight smile on his face. At least something had been won out of this sordid ordeal.

When Merlin tried to hold Morgana's hand, she let him hold it, but not without bile rising up her throat and second-guessing herself.

What an odd trio to save the world.

A dethroned king and queen and a servant.

A warrior with the heart of a lion, a woman with unparalleled intelligence, and a young warlock with powers beyond anyone else's imagination.

A woman and her two lovers.

Which side of their personalities would prevail?

On that depended the fate of the Isles.

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 _The End_

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Author's Note: Well, well... so we've come to the end of this story. I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you've read the story so far, I would like to thank you for bearing it with Arthur, Morgana and Merlin till the very end, especially TheMag1c1an, who has left the most reviews for this story and given me motivation to continue even when writing got hard - but thank you to all of you who gave any sort of feedback, in the form of a subscription or a favorite, this story couldn't have been finished without you.

Again, I am here to improve primarily, so if you don't mind, I would like to kindly ask you to take the time to tell me your opinions in a review to help me on my journey as an author. If not, thank you for reading anyhow.

I wish you all happy reading/writing on Fan Fiction Net.


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